Flames of War
by Ziven
Summary: When a War ends, is it really over? Combating the aftermath is just as hard and Harry as well as everyone else must fight their own emotional scars. But is it enough? When Lucius rises in power, can scars be cast aside to save The Boy Who Lived? slash
1. Chapter 1

**Flames of War**

**Chapter One: **The Husk of a Man

_**As if to pile up our loneliness**_

_**We kiss**_

_**The scars that we damaged **_

_**Will tell of a beautiful parting…**__--"Beautiful Alone"_

**July 10/11, Monday/Tuesday, late night/early morning, 2000**

They were both so messed up.

That was the only phrasing that Snape could think of for their predicament. He barely processed it himself.

Every night, they met each other without fail. There was no greeting kiss, no vestige of intimacy before they made love to each other—if you could really call it that where there _was_ not love—screamed each other's names, held each other tightly, shielded each other through their actions from the cruel world around them.

Yes, the War had ended. But it had left many scars in its wake; they were both victims of the same disaster. A disaster that held them captive, mind, boy, and soul, despite its passing. Both were merely shells of their former selves.

And yet, he had become accustomed to this stranger-yet-not-stranger—who had walked into his life, no barged into his life with careless abandon. A stranger who had more in common with him than he had ever expected; more than he had ever desired.

Stranger still was that while there was no intimacy in their relationship, there was something else, an understanding that Severus had, albeit grudgingly, began to except.

He looked over at his partner-not-partner, at his stranger-not-stranger, knowing that he vapid features displayed on the boy's face were simply a more relaxed version of his own.

Severus sighed. He was tired of the hate, tired of death and sorrow. Rising from his own bed, he initiated a cleansing spell and shrugged on a robe, leaving his private chambers in exchange for his den, stopping fires to pour himself a glass of wine.

He was tired of it all. He wished that it would all end. Even now that eh war was over, there were Death Eaters killing in the name of revenge. Killing in the effort to warn the very boy in his bed chambers that they were coming after him.

It had all began terribly long before Harry Potter had even been born. It was because of the shifting of the pluck of young wizards. Wizards who believed that muggles should be hiding, not those with magic in their veins.

He, too, hated muggles. But, besides fearing what they could not understand, they were only being human. Even Wizards sometimes degraded themselves to muggle-like behavior.

Worst of all, he had been tired of the antipathy of the Hogwarts Houses. Despite the Four Founders' intensions, their ancient squabbles were still the root of many of the broken friendships still in place in the building to that day. And broken friendships, especially between other Houses and Slytherins, created people such as Tom Riddle, and gave those who wanted to serve him a place to gather.

Even now in the Wizarding World, adults typically remained friends with those they grew up with in their Houses at Hogwarts.

_Look at Durmstrang,_ Severus reminded himself. _Led by a servant of Voldemort, and yet their battle readiness helped the War against Voldemort immensely._

He jiggled the glass in his hands, realized that it was there, and took a long drink that emptied it. He rose back to the wine shelf. _I'd better get the bottle._

There had been events recently that had given Severus hope, however slight, that the future was truly not that dim. Various people, including Draco Malfoy, had stepped out of the shadow of lives that barely belonged to them to help Harry throughout the War. Several Slytherins who trusted Malfoy had also come to Hogwarts, their major War-time headquarters, to assist Dumbledore. Some even convinced their parents, like Pansy Parkinson. Some refused to come to their side, like Blaise Zabini and his parents.

Sitting back down in his chair and refilling his glass, Severus sighed. Despite the bright signs ahead, he could not decide whether or not he believed in a future without chaos and mistrust.

_It is indeed a horrible sign, for a good future when Harry Potter crawls into your bed every night._ And with that, Severus drained his glass again.

Yes. Voldemort had been killed. But at what expense? The destruction of a world, its relationships, its people? How many people had Voldemort imprisoned? How many were missing? How many of those missing were dead? How many were Death Eaters?

And then there was Lucius. Lucius, who had betrayed Severus's trust more than anyone. Lucius who for the most part was the reason why Severus had the scars that made him identify with The Boy Who Lived in the first place.

Ronald Weasley, too, had played an essential part in what Severus now called 'Harry's fucked up psyche', which was truly no more fucked up than his own. When Albus Dumbledore had returned to the War with the news that Weasley had become a Death Eater, the world had collapsed for everyone at Hogwarts. Especially Harry. Ron's family was at that moment truly shamed, despite their positions as Aurors, and Ginny Weasley's particular skill in Healing Magics. Charlie Weasley had been famous for training one Dragon in particular—one named Norberta, it seemed—to sense and destroy the Dark Mark, and those who possessed it. Unfortunately, Severus now owed his life to that oaf, Hagrid, who had saved his life after the wretched thing attacked. It took four months until Severus could walk in the presence of that infernal creature.

_However_, he mused with another sip,_ You_ did_ receive the satisfaction of watching her devour several Death Eaters…_

Ron Weasley had sworn the oath of loyalty and had been given the Dark Mark, even. If Severus had had thought the boy's betrayal an act (which he had, at first), all suspicions of that faded when, during the Final Battle, he had seen it upon the boy's arm with his very eyes. And he knew from experience that the Dark Mark was not something you agreed to have etched in your skin on a whim. It was a commitment, a burden that one would have to deal with his entire life. It meant sleepless nights, it meant endless torture from Voldemort. It meant that your life was no longer your own.

_And_, a small, sarcastic voice in the back of his mind added, _it means night after night with Harry Potter._

_Shut up,_ Severus thought to himself.

However, there was a significant change in the tide of that battle. Harry, out of anger that Weasley had joined _his_ side, had momentarily stunned Voldemort for enough time to snarl into Weasley's face, "_Why!?_"

_Why?_ It was a simple enough question, but one that helped Severus end the life of one Death Eater by the name of Dolohov. It was the same seething question that he had asked someone else long ago, when he still trusted the world. However, the outcomes of those two situations were very different.

**(flashback, late afternoon, December 1999.)**

"Because," Ron said, and pointed his wand at Harry. The brunette's eyes widened, bracing for the most horrible blow he would ever take: one from his best friend.

But that was not Weasley's intention. Raising his wand a half inch to the right, over Harry's shoulder and at Voldemort, the redhead called, "_Expelliarmus!"_

That obviously gave Harry the opening he needed. But even as Voldemort was hit by a Killing Curse from Harry, Blaise Zabini was not finished. For him and for many others, Severus knew, it was not over. With a chill in his eyes that matched a Malfoy's, Zabini peered right at Ron Weasley and hissed, "_Crucio!_"

Severus, for reasons even he didn't understand, not even then, had tried to take the blow for Weasley; he had been accustomed to it, being an ex-Death Eater. And despite Ron having been a Death Eater, only person had ever experienced the amount of pain that Severus had. He would take the torture much better than Weasley.

But he could not get there in time. Agonizing screams began to rip themselves from Weasley's throat as he coalesced with the meaning of pain. Zabini was angry, and that emotion poured through every magical ounce of the Cruciatus Curse.

"Ron!" Harry screamed, immediately tackling Blaise to the ground and wrenching the Slytherin's wand from him.

But Blaise's concentration was complete and utter; even having his wand taken away from his mind not stop his mind from imposing the curse.

Severus them scrambled to stand between them, to intercept the waves of magic now that there was no wand pinpoint their target. It wasn't too long before he could hear his own screams, despite resolving not to give the boy satisfaction.

"Severus!" It was the first time Harry had ever used his first name. As the other death Easters retreated, Blaise faltered, and his spell slowly faded from the Potions Master.

Harry's murderous gaze was the last thing that Severus saw. His last thought before slipping into the dark subconscious of his mind, was that he was proud of both Harry and Ron.

**end flashback.**

Ron had been in a healing sleep even since, and that happened more than half a year ago.

Severus had heard, after had had woken up, that Blaise had Apparated away before Harry's anger roused him to action. The Boy Who Lived, after ensuring that Hermione Granger put both injured men into a healing sleep, went hunting that night. Six Death Eaters died the same night, 

none of them Blaise but all of them horrible nonetheless. When he returned, hours after the battle and somewhat covered in rainwater, moody and cold, Harry had finally seemed to have control of himself.

It was four days after that battle when Severus awoke from his sleep. Having been the only other conscious person who had been unoccupied when Ron had been attacked, Harry, effusive as usual (from what Severus had heard, Harry's return to the castle had scared even Dumbledore, so he was glad not to have had to see it), sought to speak with him about it.

_And the poignant tale comes full circle,_ Severus thought with finality, taking another swig of wine—only to realize that there was no longer any in the glass.

He sighed.

"Severus?" a soft call came.

The Potions Master did not even bother to turn, instead refilling his glass.

Just like every night, Severus felt a twinge of guilt for his actions. Harry was already so frail, so broken…

"Severus?" he said one more time. "Are you alright?"

_You dare ask if I am alright, when your very soul is shattered beyond repair?_ Severus thought, instead of answering._ You, such an insolent, dilatory child with a paucity of common sense…? You are not the man you once were. You are no longer possessed of the superfluous ebullience, the frenetically garrulous exterior that made you Harry Potter. You no longer make your comrades smile, no matter what your name does to the masses. Instead, you involve yourself with an insipid man who is more than twice your own age. You are a husk, Harry._

"Severus!" Harry was becoming worried.

"Yes, Mister Potter…?" Severus inclined as he tried to forget their current circumstance.

"Do you need to talk, Severus?"

The Potions Master winced at the use of his first name. "No. Go. Back to Bed," he said.

Harry knew better than to argue. As he left, Severus poured himself another glass.

_You must do something about him, _he thought to himself. _Before he loses himself completely…_

_**This world is a riddle,**_

_**This world is a lie**___

_**However, there's compassion in this world after all**__—"Kiss me, Kiss me, Kill me"_

* * *

I did want to make it clear that all of the song lyrics are from Weiss Kreuz, an anime about two groups of assassins; you should look it up if you like the lyrics—all of the words are based off of the things that main characters go through.

I really like this story. This is my biggest project I've ever worked on—on paper, it spans to almost three hundred pages so far, and I'm not even finished completely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Two: **Breakfast for Two

_**Only to embrace those we love**_

_**And protect those small and precious**_

_**Today again someone shouts that met**_

_**Sacrificing even their life**_

_**To smolder in the midst of time**_

_**With that instant's kiss**__—"Velvet Underworld"_

**July 11, Tuesday, Afternoon, 2000**

Apparently, the effects of their lack of conversation were soporific, as Harry did not decide to arise until the afternoon. It was early July, and now that the War was officially over—meaning that enough of the Wizarding society had been prepared and repaired to continue normal functions—Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was to reopen the following year, with the other two European schools, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.

Severus sent an egrious glare to his bed. _Just because he's the bloody Boy Who Lived doesn't mean he can violate my bloody space._

Usually, Potter was gone by the morning. This time, something was obviously wrong.

Severus had made up his mind; everyone had cast in their lot of sacrifices to make The Boy Who Lived happy—Sirius, his freedom for thirteen years, Lupin, being shunned for who he was while teaching at Hogwarts. Ron became a Death Eater; Hermione had to suffer as her friend became someone she hardly knew. Even Draco and several other Slytherins had to reject their families—Lucius, for one, was still alive.

Everyone had sacrificed. Except for him.

Severus had sacrificed nothing, and considering that Harry was becoming somewhat like him, Severus felt he owed the green-eyed used youth _something_.

And so, Severus decided to give him the one thing he had sought as a youth—understanding. Someone who identified with him.

_You know what that means,_ Severus thought,_ you'll have to be nice…_ the voice was not facetious at all, but scalding, like a snake bite.

Taking a deep breath, he gently shook Harry awake.

"Hm. Severus…?"

_The Boy is too used to being here, _Severus snapped in his thoughts.

"Get up," the words came out more cruel than he wanted.

"What?" apparently, harry was not used to being in the Dungeons during daylight hours. "Oh. Shit. I'm sorry, Severus…" he muttered lazily, and proceeded to hurriedly search for his clothes.

Severus held up a hand, causing Harry to falter in his movements. "Do not rush so. My propriety will not turn to the worst just because you are still here. Take your time."

Harry, used to Severus's frightening imperious attitude, peered at the other man quizzically. "Severus…are you all right?" he asked slowly.

"I am fine. What about you?"

The fact that Severus had designed to ask him that question alone disturbed him, but he stammered a "fine" and continued to search for his clothes. Severus ventured back into the den to give Harry some privacy.

Harry's mind was reeling. What the hell was wrong with Severus!? Why was he being so…pleasant?

He wasn't expecting, niceties when he had gotten involved with Severus. He had expected a man who would make him feel real, and not as though his world was slipping through his fingers. He expected a man who would deliberately not care for him, a man who would not enact 'tender loving care', he expected a man who would leave him behind if Harry did not catch up.

The ordeal with Ron had damaged him, he knew more then he cared t admit, but he liked…predicament with Severus. He knew he was hiding from the world, but…at least he was hiding in a world where he knew what was what. It was plainly black and white, with Severus. There weren't a million shades of grey to sift through. He knew what was and what wasn't. He knew that Severus (as he had come to call the man in time) did not love him, or even like him. He knew that the Slytherin wanted no traces of Harry in his home, and so Harry, without being asked, had obliged by leaving before dawn.

But this, Severus being nice…Harry was slipping once again into that world of grey, where nothing was predictable and somehow, every time, life and fate conspired together to screw you over. He didn't want to go there again.

Life had more or less settled down; he knew who his allies were; the enemies were all in hiding, easily recognizable to any witch or wizard with eyes and common sense.

As Harry stumbled around the room locating his clothes, he whispered a cleaning spell to himself, and then magically changing Severus's bed sheets. Switching the black, velvety spreads for another of identical appearance, Harry felt satisfied, and turned to the task of dressing himself.

Despite Severus's statement, Harry dressed quickly; eager to rid himself of what he knew later would anger Severus.

But, as he approached the den, that was not what he saw. What he saw was Severus waiting patiently, two trays before him—one obviously meant for Harry.

"Severus…" It disgusted Harry how many times he had said the Potions Master's name in the last few hours. He had no right. He shook his head. "Um…I'm not very hungry."

He shied towards the door, opting to leave rather than be around when Severus's polite demeanor collapsed in on itself; it undoubtedly would. "Thank you, though—"

"_Harry._" The word, loudly spoken, reverberated through Harry's entire being, it seemed. Without a doubt, he knew he wouldn't be able to muster the energy to take a step that wasn't towards the man in front of him. Swallowing hard, Harry sat in the chair nearest to Severus.

"Yes?" he said, his mind reverting back to his time as a student. When things really came down to it, he couldn't oppose Severus's experienced fury.

"Eat," he said to Harry, and began to wield his own fork in the process.

Harry began to eat, as he was instructed, but mechanically, his mind straying, to other thoughts.

What was Severus doing, and what was his purpose for doing it? Harry severely doubted that the Potions Master had noticed that he hadn't been eating for a few days. So what was he getting at, forcing Harry to eat like this?

However, Harry held the question to his tongue, chewing a piece of flapjack instead and peering over his glass of orange juice—which he was now drinking, his mind registered—to look at 

Severus, who obviously knew he was being watched. However, the Slytherin said nothing, merely concentrating on his breakfast and ignoring Harry.

Harry felt frustrated. He was missing something here; something that would explain this. What was it?

To answer the question, his memory brought up a picture: a hazy scene from the early morning, Severus sitting in front of the ever burning fireplace, and empty wine glass in his hands.

"What happened last night?" he asked before he could think about doing so.

"Nothing," Severus replied.

"You woke up last night," Harry said, "You usually don't."

The Gryffindor could see the sharp remark on Severus's tongue. But the elder did not voice it. "It was merely thinking." A pause. "Surely you, The Boy Who Lived, have had a few sleepless nights?"

Harry vigorously nodded, before his mind caught up with him. _You haven't,_ said the voice in his subconscious remarked. _You haven't had a nightmare for quite some time. Not since—_

"I started with Severus…?" Harry muttered to himself.

"Excuse me?" Severus said politely.

Harry looked up into the Potions Master's eyes. "I haven't…had a sleepless night. Not since…"

The Head of Slytherin could obviously finish the statement. Harry, who was sure he would've told off by the elder then, was again surprised by Severus's behavior.

The former Professor let out a relieved _sigh, _one that finally convinced Harry that the other wizard had gone mad. Stark-raving mad.

Harry pushed his plate aside. "What were you thinking about yesterday?" He asked seriously.

So seriously, in fact, that Severus chuckled. "Nothing of much importance, I assure you."

"Liar!" Harry accused. "You don't drink when you're thinking about nothing. _You_ drink when you think of something you're not comfortable with!"

The green-eyed man could see Severus's left eyebrow twitch.

_He's really trying not to snap at me._ Harry realized this was a start. Why would Severus do something like that? What reason could Severus have for treating him nicely?

"Severus, I want to know what is wrong with you. Are you really okay?"

"I will not even reward that redundant question with an answer."

Harry stood, and in a deadly serious tone asked, "Why?"

Severus sighed, knowing that it was a painful 'why'. Knowing that it was a 'why' that gave voice to Harry's fear of being truly alone, of being lied to, of being betrayed.

"It was the same kind of 'why' that Harry had asked Ron that fateful day months ago.

With another sigh, Severus answered, "Because…"

He let the sentence hang, like Weasley had, watching the color drain from Harry's face. _You're not helping,_ a voice said from deep inside.

Just when Harry looked as though he would storm out, Snape added, completing his sentence, "You need it."

That answer alone shocked Harry through to the depths of his soul. He felt as though—as Severus's answer revealed—he hadn't fooled anyone. He had been working to get past this, past the War, past the sorrow but apparently he hadn't made any progress. He was still cold, still suspicious—_You're becoming like Snape_, a venomous voice whispered into his thoughts.

Quite like Severus had addressed his voice the night before, though Harry could not have possibly known, Harry snapped mentally at himself, _Shut up!_

Taking a frustrated breath, Harry replied. "I don't need anything from anyone but myself. I'm not meant to take things from people's lives; I'm only supposed to give pieces of my own." He covered his mouth directly afterward, because that had been a comment to keep to himself—not to be shared at all, especially not with Severus Snape.

As if the morning wasn't already stranger, the look on Severus's face was stranger still. It was as though his very demeanor faltered, and Harry was given a glimpse of what really went on in the Potions Master's thoughts. The look on his face was a mix of horror, surprise, and sympathy before his cool, icy, nonchalant nature made a reappearance.

"Is that really what you think?" Severus asked calmly.

_Yes,_ was the answer poised on Harry's tongue; but Severus's facial expression, however brief, made The Boy Who Lived want to rethink his answer.

And so, instead of answering the question, he stood. "I think," Harry said, "That I will excuse myself now…"

Severus looked up at him from his seat, not bothering to get up. He watched Harry silently, not saying a word as the boy headed to the door.

Harry inclined his head to the Head of Slytherin before he left. "Thank you for the brunch."

As Harry traveled through the Hall, his own question came to mind. Not simply because of Ron or Severus, but everything: the War, Voldemort, even himself.

It was a question that plagued him since he was a mere child, since he had lived with the Dursleys.

_Why?_

_**The World's flowers like a carpet of crimson red**_

_**As one scatter and toss through the air**_

_**Sorrow and sadness are born there**_

_**From the darkness that streams underneath**_

_**Ah, are hearts only meant to lie?**_

_**Are people just puppets of fate?**__—"Velvet Underworld"_

* * *

There is a definite problem with this chapter. The Order of the chapter POVs (Point of Views) are supposed to go: Severus, Harry, Hermione, and then Draco. Yes. I wanted to leave it as a surprise for all of you, but I had to make this clear. I didn't decide on this order of POVs until I finished this chapter, and so Severus's emotions are mixed in with this particular chapter. However, after this chapter you won't have to worry about any shoddy writing. I thought about rewriting it so that it would fit the format, but Severus's emotions towards Harry contributed a lot to the chapter, and I would therefore like to keep it in its originality. Like I said, though, I promise that you won't have to worry about it from this point forward, and I hope that I don't lose any readers for this small technicality. Thank you all for bearing with me.

I also wanted to ask this question of my patron readers; I have had a history of using commas incorrectly—I tend to use them to emphasize pauses in sentences rather than use them properly, the way that they should be used—and I would like my patron readers/grammar Nazis out in the audience to please alert me to whether or not I am improving from chapter to chapter. I would appreciate it very much. Usually, I'm too tired after writing fanfiction—or typing it up—to actually go through it and correct it. However, I am going to change that, because I do care about the quality of my writing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Three:** The Honor of a Death Eater

_**In this city stained with greed**_

_**There is only wind blowing towards the sky**_

_**All that is left of trampled love**_

_**Is the tear left in the palm of my hand**_

_**Ah, were smiles only meant to sunder?**_

_**Everyone has their wounded hearts.**__—"Velvet Underworld"_

**July 11, Tuesday, afternoon, 2000**

Hermione sighed, frustrated at herself. For the third night in a row, she had fallen asleep, crying over Ron's sickbed.

"Ron…how could you do this to me?!" she said, her hands clutching the sheets covering the other Gryffindor.

She had been devastated, like Harry, when she had found out about Ron becoming a Death Eater. He had been gone months, a year even, before the information had been delivered by Dumbledore—she and Harry had presumed he was dead.

Even that was better than the real story.

Hermione had watched Harry break when he heard the news. To the both of them, the world was collapsing in on itself; Slytherins were more trustworthy—_Draco_ was more trustworthy—than Ron, their best friends from years ago.

But even though Harry had allowed himself to be broken, Hermione would not afford herself that luxury. She had not suffered like Harry had. And because of it, she had to be strong.

She wouldn't let herself believe that Ron was one of them. He could've been under the Imperious Curse, right?

Despite what Dumbledore had said, he had only seen Ron for an instant and his sense may have faltered, right?

She spent a long while convincing herself that.

When the Final Battle had occurred, she was hidden; she was ordered by Severus Snape to not reveal herself until the battle was over or she was forced to move by an attack. She watched the battle in horror—she knew who would survive and who would not as soon as the blood had begun to spill.

But when Harry confronted Ron, and Hermione saw the coldness in him—the coldness of the Death Eaters—she wept for him.

Even when Harry had asked him, "_Why?_"

But her spirits lifted when the softness of years' past came to Ron's eyes, and he answered, "Because," and pointed his wand at Harry.

Even before she saw him—or heard him—attack Voldemort, Hermione had known that Ron was still with them.

She sighed. Even with Ron in his coma, Harry was still number one on her worry list.

Despite having taken the vow of a Death Eater Ron, that day, had been more alive than Harry had been almost the entirety of the War as well as afterward. The Boy Who Lived had given up all hope for people; Hermione could see it in his eyes. She and Harry never even spoke anymore, unless it was about Ron.

She sighed again. Why did Voldemort have to screw everything up?

"Thinking, Granger?" came the cool, slick voice of Harry's former arch-nemesis, Draco Malfoy. However, the years of animosity for he and his group had dissipated—like many other things—during the War. Having spent half of the War with him, Hermione found Draco stranger, but insightful and usually wise company.

"…yes," she said, answering his question truthfully.

"Worried about Ron?" Draco looked surprised at himself for calling him by his first name.

"No; Harry," she said.

"What do you need to worry about me for?" sounded the cheerful voice of Harry Potter into the Great Hall, where the wounded were being housed.

Hermione frowned. "You know why," she growled. She had learned long ago as a child that a smile on the outside was not always a true smile.

"I'm fine," Harry said, patting himself all over. "See? Nothing is broken, which is rather strange. Don't you think I should have a war wound or something?" The real message of that joke was not missed by either Hermione or Draco.

_You're a bloody idiot_, Hermione thought at him bluntly.

"I don't think so," Draco said, without missing a beat. "You've got more scars than a lot of these people." He gestured towards the Hall in general.

Hermione nodded in agreement before asking, "Where have you been all morning?"

"Brunch with Severus," Harry said shortly, a sign that he didn't want to talk about it.

This was not lost on Hermione, either. Severus Snape or anything that revolved around him was a taboo subject with Harry. Normally Hermione would chalk it up to seven years of hate, but she knew that Harry had given up on that a while ago. They were all a bit tired of all the hate. It did nothing but destroy lives.

Lives like Ron's. Lives like Draco's. Lives like Harry's.

_Ironic,_ Hermione proposed mentally,_ that in the end we're all alike._

Despite knowing not to broach the subject with Harry, Draco persisted. "Really? Instead of breakfast with the rest of us, you and Snape got together, eh?"

"Well, I—" Harry stopped, and started over. "When I saw him," he said slowly, "neither of us had eaten, so he suggested it."

_What were you about to say, Harry?_ Hermione wondered.

Harry refused to give any details about the lunch, besides Severus's answer when Draco asked why Severus would do such a thing, being a social invert and all.

"He said, apparently, that I need it," Harry said, voice filled with resentment, which told Hermione that her friend had no clue whatsoever as to what the Potions Master meant.

"Well," Draco said, knitting his brow and glancing at Ron, "it _is_ true. You do need it…"

Harry gave a frustrated sigh, and like Harry Hermione waited for Draco to embellish on his comment.

Which, as they predicted, Draco did. Delicately. "Harry…you…are not who you used to be." Draco said uneasily. Hermione winced.

Harry shrugged. "People change."

Draco shook his head. "…Harry, how many people have you killed in the War?"

Harry seemed to either be asked that question frequently, or he asked at least asked himself before because he knew the answer and stated it quickly. "Nine," he said, "not including Voldemort."

Draco looked Harry in the eyes. "Not including inadvertent actions. People _you_ killed, personally."

"Nine."

"How many of them were killed after Ron was attacked by Blaise?" Draco seemed to wince at the spoken name of his former comrade. "And how many before?"

Harry faltered, realizing the point of conversation. He could not meet Draco's eyes as he replied, "Nine. All after."

Hermione gasped. Even she hadn't known this. No one had. Harry had not spoken to anyone after the Final Battle, when he arrived at Hogwarts Castle drenched in rain water and crying about Ron. The Ministry had found six bodies, not nine. What had happened to the other three Death Eaters?

That was Draco's next question.

"I…I don't know," Harry said, returning his eyes to Draco's. "I could never remember…"

Draco's eyes were icy as he inquired. "Are they alive?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. They will _never_ come back," Harry said with viciousness that almost shocked Draco, it seemed. Needless to say, Hermione had been aptly surprised as well. How could Harry…what did he _do_ to them?

"But none of them were Lucius or Blaise," Draco said. "Of this you are also sure?"

"Yes," Harry answered, and then scowled. "Are you quite finished, then?"

"One more," sounded the reply. "Would you like to guess how many people Ron has killed during the War?"

Harry visibly flinched. Hermione angrily glared at Draco. "You can't hold those things against him, Draco! He was a Death Eater, so he had to do what they told him; you can't—"

"More than ten, less than fifteen," Harry guessed.

Hermione's expression was livid. "Harry, how dare you actually incriminate Ron with such talk? How could you doubt his intentions? He did this to save you!"

Harry shrugged. "As I seem to be an example, people change. They do things you wouldn't want them to. And they hurt you. But the sad thing is that only your friends can betray you; that's why it's called betrayal."

Hermione was weeping inside. What had become of Harry?

"That's not true!" Hermione countered. "People you know as well as strangers can betray you! Two years ago, you wouldn't have cared if Draco had joined us or not."

"Two years ago Ron was not a Death Eater!" Harry growled. "And I was naïve. Even if Draco had become a Death Eater instead of Ron, it wouldn't have been true betrayal. _Because_ we wouldn't have cared. That the thing about human nature, Hermione. It centers around the person in question. It _is_ true. Notice that the only ones who felt betrayed by Blaise—" Draco winced again, and Harry's eyes flashed to him briefly, "—were the Slytherins and Draco. Why? Because he was one of them. Friends are the only ones that can betray you because we'll all let someone down somewhere in life!"

"Well, what—what about me!?" Hermione snarled.

Harry paused uneasily. Now that the War was over, he hadn't given it a thought how Hermione could do something like that to him.

Hermione continued, her heart breaking at Harry's perception of life. "What about Ron? He did _not_ betray you. It only seemed that way! What can you say about him?"

Harry's eyes shied away from him, and he said, "Nothing."

Hermione sighed, concentrating on Ron to calm her nerves.

Draco piped up, now that their debate had died down. Hermione had all but forgotten he was there.

"Would you all like to know? How many people Ron has killed in the War?"

Harry looked away from both Hermione and Draco, and Hermione realized that the decision was up to her. "Yes," she said. _Just how far had Ron gone to be a believable Death Eater?_

"None."

Harry wheeled around, large eyes widened in surprise. They searched Draco's eyes for a hint of a lie.

Even Hermione could find none, and she smiled. "See? Harry, people are better than you think!"

"He worked Voldemort into a frenzy," Draco said, "About how it would be best if Harry's closest friend, son of the nominee for_ Minister of Magic_, struck the first blow to Harry Potter, symbol of light in the Wizarding World. Voldemort ate it up. Did nothing but make Ron practice magic. He was allowed on missions, of course, but only able to use two of the three Unforgivable Curses."

"How do you know?" Harry said.

"There_ are_ Slytherin contacts," Draco said, "Who were enticed by Imperius to join the Death Eaters. Not to mention everyone we caught before you slaughtered most of who survived the Final Battle. Perhaps, if you pulled your head out of those Dark, despair ridden clouds of self-hatred and pity, you could have asked some people something. Dumbledore or the Professors, perhaps? Remus told me that particular piece of information…"

And, as nonchalant as he had approached Hermione, Draco Malfoy turned on his heel and left.

_**The only words this town ever reflects**_

_**Are the ones with thorns**_

_**The people who come across each other run by**_

_**If I believe, it will probably break**_

_**The days when I just held on to uneasiness**_

_**If you were here**_

_**I wouldn't let you go**__—"Beautiful Alone"_


	4. Chapter 4

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Four:** Prototype Curses

_**Tracing with a finger**_

_**The scar of an angel's feather on your pale back,**_

_**I've searched ever since then…**__--"Sora Soko; The Bottom of the Sky"_

**July 11, Tuesday, afternoon, 2000**

As Draco stalked away from Harry and Hermione, he sighed. Harry really did need all the help he could get before he ended up hating the world, like he had almost decided to do. Like his father did. Like Severus had for some time.

_Is that why Severus invited Harry to brunch?_

He thought about Severus intentions with Harry until he reached his makeshift room, the room that Dumbledore had given to him, as he had given to everyone else who was remaining in the castle.

Once there, Draco lit his fireplace with a softly spoken, "_Incendio!_" and made his way to a nearby shelf to retrieve some floo powder. He only had a little left; he would have to buy more later. Fortunately, after graduating from Hogwarts, he had foreseen the troubles of the War, and had stocked up with refugee supplies and horded them throughout the Malfoy Manor. When the time had come to leave his father, he had taken them with him. The supplies, which had included food, was set with preservation charms, clothes (and the research to magically tailor them), and other assorted items, as well as some of his personal belongings. He brought enough to last five years; that was as far as he could accept the War continuing for.

Luckily, the War had only lasted three years. Unluckily, his supplies were running out before the due time.

But they had served their purpose for the War, even if he had to filch his own father's Galleons to make it happen.

Headmaster Dumbledore's face when Draco's small group of Slytherins arrived at Hogwarts, smiling and very thankful for the supplies in the midst of a war with almost all communication stopped.

As the flames became green, he stepped into them, and said fiercely, "Ministry of Magic Research Department Lab!"

When he arrived, the flames at the Ministry of Magic spat him out as though he were bad-tasting coal.

He looked around the dim room before him, and it reminded him of a mad scientist's lab, and everything around him looked slightly out of place.

He stalked out of the room, which was familiar to him, and entered the hustling and bustling Attrium. The Ministry's Headquarters seemed more homely, more pleasant; but Draco had expected this—what else could he think, with Arthur Weasley as the Minister of Magic?

Winding his way through the branch corridors for the Research Department, he navigated himself to a small office. On the desk in the office a name plate read:

"_Head of Research into Magical Properties of the Dark Arts._"

Sitting behind the desk was Remus Lupin.

"Not in the lab today, I see," Draco said. He fussed vainly over his hair, which had grown longer over the years; he kept it tied back in a ponytail these days, painfully aware that it reminded others of his father.

Lupin looked up, the smile on his face speaking volumes. Then he suddenly frowned. "Are you alright?"

"Relatively," Draco replied. "I talked to Harry. He's going down the wrong road Remus…he's become Severus, only with an outlook on life similar to my father's."

"That is about the worst combination I've heard yet."

Draco sighed. He loved his visits with Remus; hell, he loved the werewolf himself, but their conversations were always riddled with the residue of the War.

The Slytherin took a seat across from Lupin, and said wearily, "Hermione is the same, though. Always the same; unshakable belief in her friends."

"That's wonderful news…" Remus said, trailing off, going back to his paperwork. "And Ron?"

"The same as Sirius, I'm sure; barely alive."

The Werewolf gave him a shy smile. "Sirius is just restless because Dumbledore wants him to stay put until Blaise and Lucius…" he stopped, seeing Draco wince openly, as he did with Harry and Hermione. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting—"

"It's okay," Draco said hastily. "I have to get over it sometime…I've got you know remember?"

Remus's smile widened, and Draco smiled in return for a few moments, then faltered.

"What happened with Harry, Draco?" Remus asked calmly.

Draco sighed. "Harry killed nine wizards the night after Voldemort died. Not six. He told me."

Remus dropped his paperwork. "Are you sure? Is he sure? Why didn't he tell us?"

"He never told anyone about it. The Ministry found six bodies, and asked Harry if he had killed them. Harry said yes. But no one pried further. Even Dumbledore did not dare approach him."

Draco remembered that night. It was late, into the morning even, when Harry knocked loudly on the gates of Hogwarts. Everyone was terrified at the disturbance and had wearily taken their battle stances. Hermione had been telling Draco in the Great Hall, while hovering over the bodies of Severus Snape and Ron Weasley, that Harry had returned.

**flashback, early morning, December 1999**

"What if he's dead, Draco?" she had asked. "You saw the look on his face—"

"I didn't," Draco said. "I was on hidden duty as well. No one called me except you, when Snape went down and Blaise fled. By then, Harry was gone…"

"In more ways than one," Hermione muttered.

Then several people came rushing into the Great Hall, wearing strained expressions. One of them was Pansy Parkinson, who leaned to Draco's ear and whispered, "It's _Harry_! He's back…" she said before running off again.

Dumbledore, who had been at the forefront of the group stationed at the door, had not yet retreated and Hermione, who Draco guessed had overheard Pansy, rose quickly—Draco trailing behind her—leaving Ron and Snape's bodies to the comfort of their healing sleeps in search for The Boy Who Lived.

But that was not who they found out at the door. Who they found was a dropping, soaking wet version of the man who had saved the Wizarding World hours ago. His hair was in his red eyes, obviously sore from crying—but they also looked dangerous, murderously angry—and he refused to answer Hermione as she called him repeatedly, asking what was wrong.

Draco could tell that something inside the Gryffindor had irrevocably snapped, leaving this figure.

Dumbledore raised a hand for silence; Hermione began to sob, quietly, McGonagall offering a shoulder for her tears.

In a voice that betrayed his own fear for Harry the Headmaster asked Harry, in quiet tones, "Harry…are you alright?"

Harry looked up as though he was seeing them all for the first time. He shook his head, as though to clear it, but even when he spoke, Draco could sense the murderous feeling from Harry's eyes in his voice as well.

"…no. I want to go to bed."

_Who_ was this? Draco wondered. Who was this man who looked so dangerous, so hurt, so…beaten?

Perhaps you should lie down in the infirmary; Harry?" Madame Pomfrey asked politely. "We can see if you are already injured…"

"No," Harry said coldly, and began to walk forward Even Dumbledore withdrew from the boy's path, and because of that, everyone did the same—even Draco.

The followed him, though; they followed Harry Potter through Hogwarts to his destination. Harry led them to his room, and with a whispered password, Harry entered his room. He turned to the crowd, which made a few people jump, and said without any feeling, "Goodnight."

**flashback end**

He did not wake for four days, and when he did, he was relatively stable—relatively himself.

The Ministry visited that day, accompanied by Mister Weasley, who had not yet been decided as the Minister of Magic—he came to see his son.

It was then, to everyone's amazement, that six bodies had been found over the period of Harry's resting, and that Harry had been sighted near those locations by other wizards.

They charged Harry with nothing, as all six victims were known and listed Death Eaters. Harry told them nothing else.

"So," Remus said, "what happened to the other three?"

Draco shrugged. "He doesn't remember, or he's pretending not to. In any case, he told me that they were dead. He knows in his heart—whether or not he remembers_ how_ they died—that they are dead. They are not coming back." Draco paused, and then sighed. "I worry for him, Remus."

"As do I…" Remus said in reply. "I worry for you all. Scarred by War…but at least you were not here during Voldemort's eleven year reign. You are a part of both a cursed and blessed generation, Draco. At least you are done with the War. It is over…"

Draco shook his head. "No. It is not. Lucius and Blaise—" he still winced, and Remus frowned, "—are still out there, and they will terrorize us as long as they, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley exist in the same world at the same time. I may not have seen the attack, but I heard the screams. And I saw Weasley's body afterwards. Blaise hunts Weasley like my father used to hunt Snape." A pause and a sigh. "I fear it will never end…"

Remus sat down his glasses and looked Draco in the eye. "Draco…I haven't been completely honest with you…about a few things. First…about my research…"

It was Draco's turn to frown. "What have my father and Blaise been doing?"

Remus tried his best to ignore the wince that followed that question. "…there are new victims, Draco. They are…Blaise and Lucius are…creating new, prototype spells. And they are testing them. The first few I could reverse with simple magics, but others…are more difficult. More complicated mixtures of latin…"

Draco's eyes widened. "What…is the goal? Is there a pattern?"

"…mind control, I'm afraid," Remus answered. "Apparently Imperious isn't good enough. No…they do not want to simple overcome the mind…it is too likely to fail. Imperious can be deflected, resisted, made immune to—"

"Who in the bloody hell is immune to Imperious?"

"Ask Harry," Remus said, "Or Severus. Even Dumbledore."

"Holy shit," Draco muttered, and then covered his mouth. "Sorry."

Remus smiled. "Quite alright. In any case, Draco," the smile disappeared. "They wish not to overwhelm the mind—they want to lock it away into the subconscious, bound by words of will and their victims' own pasts. _Legimens_, with a lot of searching, has been enough to free the victims so far. In the future, I believe I may have to create my own incantation to reverse it."

"Incantation?"

"Undoubtedly. They cannot do what they are doing with only one word. It must be an incantation coupled with a lot of stored magic power. The fact that there are only one or two victims at a time proves this as well. If you read the paper, you will notice that they are 

reporting cured victims of the war. My cured patients are a part of those listings." Remus sighed. "That is all, Draco." Remus looked at his watch anxiously.

Draco huffed. "What about the other—"

Remus shook his head. "Sirius is visiting in a short while to have tea with me. Woe to you if he sees you here. You know how he feels…"

Actually, the ex-convict's opinion of Draco had much improved in the War—it was his past actions towards Harry that put Draco in a bad place so far as Sirius was concerned. But Draco knew that deep down, Sirius liked him; the man's Gryffindor pride just wouldn't let him do it.

"You owe me an explanation," Draco said, purposefully sounding like a hurt child.

Leaning over the desk, Lupin planted a small kiss on Draco's lips. "Come back tomorrow and you will have it."

Draco blushed slightly, even though he acted as though he didn't care. "I'm low on Floo Powder."

"Feel free to borrow mine," Remus said, a smug smile on his face. He had won that exchange.

Draco hated that smug smile.

_**The days which go away**_

_**The days which got closer**_

_**Exchanging a kiss**_

_**I give you my today…**__--"Tomorrow"_


	5. Chapter 5

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Five:** History Repeats Itself

_**Trouble, separation, sentence to the world**_

_**My Dearest, Faith, laugh at loneliness, just fall asleep.**__—"Double Dear"_

**July 11, Tuesday, evening, 2000**

Harry Potter did not turn up at Severus's chambers that evening.

_Perhaps this morning's debauchery of what was supposed to be a 'polite brunch' has something to do with it?_ The Potions Master's subconscious hissed.

This time, Severus did not reward it with a reply.

He sighed. His brooding over the subject wasn't going to make it any better.

_But he is frail_, Severus thought to himself. _He is beginning to think like Lucius._

There was a knock on his door. Severus's hope rose…reluctantly.

"Come in," he said, and the door opened of its own accord, in reaction to the Potions Master's words.

It was Draco Malfoy. He frowned.

Draco did not seemed too thrilled to be there, either. There was a look in his eyes that spoke foreboding things about what the boy was about to say.

"What is it, Mister Malfoy?" Severus asked in his usual condescending tone.

"I carry news of warning…for both you and Harry," the younger said, grimacing, "and an interesting tidbit Harry himself told me this afternoon after your…brunch."

Severus had the overwhelming urge to flinch, but he held himself in check. Of course, Harry would undoubted tell someone about it—especially after storming out like that. The brunette sighed.

"Go on," he urged the Malfoy on with a wave of his hand.

"This afternoon," Draco said, "Harry told me that after he killed Voldemort and left in search for Blaise—for I assume that is what he had been dong after what he did to Ron…" Severus by now 

had grown accustomed to the boy's reaction to Blaise's name and had ignored it. "In any case, he killed nine Death Eaters—not six."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "But they only found six bodies; that's impossible! I was there…he only admitted to six murders…"

Draco smiled smugly as though he had all the answers. "Yes, but that's only because the Ministry only asked about _those six_. Never asked if he killed anymore than that…"

Severus knitted his brow. "Then…where are the other three? Did they escape? Were they burned or something of that sort? Or are they hidden…?"

Draco shrugged. "All I know is that he is sure that the other three are dead. He does not remember, Severus, what he did to them—it may very well be that he does not remember what he did to any of those Death eaters, Severus—but he knows for sure that they are dead. He told me, specifically, that they were _never_ coming back. And that neither of them were Blaise or Lucius."

That was the name that caused Severus to fight back his own wince. Lucius Malfoy. Just the thought alone brought back memories…ones that he had locked away long ago.

After a long pause, Severus said slowly, "And…what of the other matter? A warning, you said?"

Draco nodded. "I am sure that Dumbledore already knows, as it comes from Remus—"

"Ah," Severus interrupted, "your furry lover. How is he?"

There was once a time when Severus would have laughed at even the thought of thinking of Remus Lupin's welfare.

Draco knew this, and decided to let the jab of words go. "He is fine," Draco replied, his smile long gone. "He says that our favorite pair of Death Eaters is creating _new _curses."

Severus closed his eyes. "To what end, Mister Malfoy? What do their curses do?"

Shackle one's mind in his subconscious."

Severus's eyes snapped open. "What?"

"I mean it. Mind Control. Apparently, they want something more complete, more binding than Imperious. They want total control." Without skipping a beat, Draco changed the subject. "To that end, I was a question. Why _are_ you immune to Imperious?"

Severus suddenly snarled, "That is none of your business, young Malfoy!"

Lazily, Draco drew in a breath of air. "So I assume it has something to do with my father, then?'

Severus did not answer the boy's question. I was none of the boy's business—just because Draco was giving him information did not mean Severus had to indulge in kind; they had no such agreement. "Are you quite done here?" he snarled. He would only admit it to himself that Malfoy's comments bothered him deeply—he would never tell anyone else.

"Sure," Malfoy answered easily. "I'm about to find Harry, though, to warn him about what Remus told me. Would you like to come along?"

That question, Severus knew, was not what it seemed. Draco should not have known about the Potions Master's brunch with Harry. Severus knew the Slytherin meant well, but, the idea of Malfoy collecting his treasure trove of information bothered him. He did not like anyone meticulously observing him, and Severus knew he should end this session without traveling anywhere with the blonde.

_However_, Severus thought,_ There is also Harry to think about here…_

And certainly there was. Harry was in a bad place. Perhaps—_perhaps—_the Malfoy next to him was offering to help him a chance to help.

"Why should I bother going with you?" Severus growled, aggravated by the demeanor of the boy's visit.

With a chuckle, Draco replied, "Because he needs it."

**July 11, Tuesday, night, 2000**

Severus had all but forgotten where Harry's room was, and was following Draco completely. Staring at the back of the blonde's hair, there was a brief flash—in Severus's mind—of Lucius's face. The boy was growing to look like Lucius; his hair was already long enough to tie in the trademark Malfoy ponytail.

_But, _Severus thought to himself, _you are nothing like him._

Indeed, it was true. Of course, when the small group of Slytherins and their parents joined Hogwarts in the War, Severus was very suspicious. He shadowed their move for as long as he possibly could. Eventually, he narrowed his stalking only to Draco—the leader of the little group. They all spoke highly of him, even Harry was impressed by Malfoy's courage to defy his father…

_But Harry was different man in those days, _the Professor reminded himself.

"I can never," Draco said suddenly, snapping the elder man's attention from his thoughts, "forget the way to Harry's chambers. Not since the day that Harry had defeated Voldemort. You were lucky to have been unconscious, Severus. Something snapped inside him, I tell you. He looked about as scary as a Dementor. Even Dumbledore refused to stand in his way. He looked murderous, even though you could tell he had been crying. He slept for four days, Severus, like you. _You_ slept for four days because of Cruciatus. _What_ could Harry have done to lose as much energy as you? He does not remember…I thought at first that perhaps he was lying; but he _is_ Harry...after all. He may not trust many people anymore, but he is more or less the same. When he _does_ divulge information, he doesn't lie; he has simply changed how freely he speaks to anyone at all…" A pause. "Do you not agree, Severus?"

The Potions Master hesitated; even Draco Malfoy, the Great Wealth of information concerning the War, did not know about the nights Harry had spent with Severus. The thought made him chuckle just a bit and he said to accompany the sound, "Only Hell freezing over could make Harry lie. Unless, of course, he believes he is protecting someone by doing so. You forget, Mister Malfoy, that he _was_ placed in Gryffindor?"

"Harry told me once," Draco countered, "That the Sorting Hat was split between Gryffindor and Slytherin—which does not surprise me—and he begged that hat not to put him in the same house that Voldemort had once been in. He also told me about the prophecy, and wondered if, had he joined Slytherin, if the task of defeating Voldemort would have fallen to Neville Longbottom."

"The World would be doomed," Severus said.

And, without further comment, Draco turned sharply to the right and raptly knocked on the door. "Harry?"

The door opened a moment later, and both men gazed into the green eyes of Harry Potter. While Draco struggled to meet the Gryffindor's cold gaze, Severus did not even try. There was too much between them to everyone Harry with a penetrating stare.

That was only effective on those who had never suffered emotionally. Severus felt Harry eyes over him, demanding, _Why are _you _here?_ The Potions Master did not answer.

"I have some interesting information about Lucius and Blaise," Draco said, followed by the familiar wince.

Severus looked at Malfoy, wondering if they would ever finish their pervious conversation. What other things had Harry deigned to tell Malfoy?

Without a word, Harry stood aside so that both men could enter. The room was average size of it—more than enough room for Severus and Draco—and was littered with things from Harry's past. Pictures of friends from school, a few magic items he may need in the future—Severus even recognized a vial of Wolfsbane Potion.

Harry saw this, and said, "In case of emergency with Remus."

Draco looked surprised, and his face flushed, telling Severus that even he had not looked that far into the future with Remus, and was ashamed of it.

On the window was Hedwig's cage; she was currently not in it.

_Sending letters, Potter?_ Severus thought.

Conjuring two chairs, a small table and two cups of tea, Harry sat on his bed, and signaled to Severus and Draco that they should sit.

"What did Remus tell you?" he asked.

Severus grimaced, the tea offering remind him of Albus—the look in Harry's eyes did not.

"It was brought to my attention," Draco began, "that they are _creating_ new curses with the purpose of mind control."

"Of course," Harry said, "Imperious isn't good enough for _them…_"

"That is exactly what Remus said."

Harry fell silent, as though pondering that statement.

"I saw fit to warn you both," Draco said, "as you are their prime targets."

Severus scoffed, "If their goal is mind control, I believe _you_ are more at risk, paired with myself, than Harry. And you know very well why."

It was no secret to anyone at Hogwarts the story behind Draco's famous wince. Severus shook his head at thought—it was basically a repeat of the past. Blaise and Draco had been in love—though Slytherins and love hardly belong in the same thought—the last few years at Hogwarts. When they graduated, Blaise joined Voldemort. Draco did not. Severus did not know the details—and, frankly, if their story was anything like Severus's own, he did not want to know. Because although it was a secret—to all but Dumbledore—Severus's tale with Lucius Malfoy was the same, save one detail: he allowed his love persuade him to join Voldemort. And, like Draco, he was unable to break his partner from the allure of Voldemort's power. He had failed Lucius, just as Draco failed Blaise.

However, in servitude of Voldemort, even as a spy, there was no room for the manifestation of emotional scars. For that reason and only that reason did Severus not possess a wince like Draco's.

"The truth is," Draco reluctantly continued, "we are all on their list: you, me, Severus and Ron. They will be targeting all of us, soon enough, when their spells are perfect. When the new school year begins this September, Dumbledore will likely not let either of you out anywhere, even to Hogsmeade, and probably not me, either. And Ron, if he is successfully revived. I don't quite know what they will do exactly, besides killing us, but Remus says that _Legimens_ had been enough to cure the victims up to this point.

"Will Occlumency prevent it?" Harry asked quietly.

"I do not know. I will ask Remus when I see him tomorrow."

A sharp joke was poised at the end of Severus's tongue.

Draco turned to him, as though he had sensed it, "Oh, bugger off Snape."

The Head of Slytherin allowed himself a small smile.

_**It seems so long since I last held you**_

_**And even longer since the last time you smiled…**__--It's too late"_


	6. Chapter 6

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Six:** Welcome Back to the World

_**Why are we born into this life? Why do we die into the night?**_

_**It seems the only one who ever known these things is the rain**_

_**Which takes my tears, keeps them oh so far at bay**_

_**Until love fades away**__—"It's too late"_

**July 11, Tuesday, night, 2000**

"Oh, bugger off, Snape."

The comment brought out a small smile from the Potions Master.

Harry had registered Draco's information, and was processing it. No matter what Dumbledore said, nothing would keep Harry from enacting his revenge on Ron's behalf. Nothing.

Harry's hard gaze settled on Severus. The smile was gone now, once more replaced by cold indifference. Feeling pressured to add to the good nature of the conversation, Harry said, "Tell Remus and Sirius I said hello."

All sounds stopped, and Draco coughed. "I will."

Harry hated this. He hated being treated like a monster, like he was some completely new stranger who had no feelings. He _did_ have feelings; the War had simply taught him to keep those feelings to himself. Like Severus did. Like Draco did, despite the pleasantries he exchanged with others. Harry could see through the mask of unhappiness that covered the mask of ice that concealed his true feelings.

"If that's all," Harry said politely. "Finish you tea and leave me. I have to think this all over, if neither of you mind."

Draco smiled, taking his offer and sipping from the tea before him without a second thought.

_What if I had poisoned that?_ Harry thought. _What if I was trying to kill you? What would you do then?_

And still, Draco drank full heartedly. "Harry, what do you do these days?"

Harry's mind flashed briefly to Severus, and he knew Severus was doing the same._ Oh, you know,_ he mused mentally,_ just sleeping around with Severus to prove to myself that I'm indeed alive when I should not be. That's all._

He chuckled at that and said, "Not much. There is really nothing for a Wizarding World Savior to do when he isn't saving the world, is there? I am doing nothing but waiting until the last two loyal Death Eaters are spotted in definite locations. What else could I possibly do?"

Draco smiled, like he was waiting for that question. "You could practice Quidditch. You could visit Ginny at St. Mungo's. you realize that Hermione will be going back there when the school year begins anew, right?"

Uneasily, Harry said, "Yes…" Actually, he had not put much thought into it. Perhaps…perhaps he should be kind enough to afford Hermione some time with him before she left. Even if it was a lie.

"_Well, what about me!?"_ She had asked earlier that day. _"What about Ron? What can you say about him?"_

"_Nothing,"_ he had answered, and it was true.

He owed her this, for being the only person in this War who had not broken his heart after seven years of friendship.

Draco, while Harry was pondering, had since finished his tea and rose. When Severus did not, Draco rose an eyebrow.

"I wish to have a word with Mister Potter after your departure, Mister Malfoy," Severus said, lacing in a bit of his Professor's tone with the statement, the tone that told the two men that they were not on the same level with the Potions Master, and never would be.

It worked. Draco opened his mouth to make a statement—perhaps a joke, Harry mused—but closed it, inclined his head to the other two Wizards and with a, "Good evening," exited the room.

Harry tried to ignore the Professor as he sat at the table next to his bed. The Boy Who Lived did not feel like discussing that morning's argument. He did not feel like enduring whatever harsh words of criticism Severus had for him.

Severus magicked away the chair that Draco had sat in, and slowly sipped his tea, ignoring Harry. The fact that the Potions Master had the audacity to do this made Harry very frustrated.

Before long, Harry found himself staring at the bottle of Wolfsbane on his shelf. Ironically, Severus Snape was the one who had concocted it. Harry sighed. He just wanted all this to be over.

"Are you quite through attempting to ignore me, Mister Potter?" Severus asked in his usual cold tones, "Because rest assured, I can continue this charade far longer than you can."

Harry said nothing, settling for glaring at the older man instead of answering. He wouldn't give Severus the satisfaction. Not for a statement like the one just made.

Severus somehow read Harry's action enough to know that the younger was listening. "I…am perplexed as to what caused our altercation this morning."

"If it was an altercation," Harry said smugly, proud to know what the word meant, "I would have hit you instead of leaving."

"But you did not; you did not allow yourself to do so."

"Just like you didn't allow yourself to insult me even though you wanted to."

A pause followed that remark, and the Severus said, quietly and in softer tones, "You did not answer my question this morning."

Harry had known that it would come to that issue.

"_I don't need anything from anyone but myself. I'm not meant to take things from people's lives; I'm only supposed to give pieces of my own."_

"_Is that what you think?"_

That question had rung through his ears all day, as well as some of the other comments Severus made.

"Harry…" Severus called softly, setting settling down his tea cup, as though he knew to pull Harry from his thoughts.

"I hope you don't expect an answer, Severus, because I don't have one for you. I don't have all the answers."

"No one is asking you to have all the answers, Harry," Severus replied, his voice shifting to one riddled with secrets,

"A lot of the time, I'm not so sure."

Severus sighed, magically refilling his cup of tea and continuing to drink. It was a habit that Harry had seen him repeat often, with his glasses of wine. "There are places, Harry, and people that you do not have to feel that way with. Miss Granger of course; Remus, Sirius, even Dumbledore," he said, then added in a more quiet voice than before, "Even myself. We have all gone through the same affairs together—Voldemort's rising, fall, and the aftermath that is currently surrounding us—and most of it we have gone through with you. There are people who know how you feel, Harry, or at least can identify with you."

Harry's eyes shifted to the Potions Master in surprise. Severus, however, sipped his tea once mo re.

"Severus…"Harry began, fighting with himself as to whether he should take the Slytherin up on his offer. Maybe talking to Severus wouldn't be so bad.

"I simply know what being betrayed feels like. As does Mister Malfoy, who is also trying to reach out to you, Harry. Despite the qualms of the real world, I liked you better when you were naïve and childish. Unfortunately, it is that sort of unwillingness to declare a situation unsalvageable that allows other to have faith."

Harry shook his head. "I'll never be like that. Not again. I'm sorry…a part of me _died_, Severus, when Blaise attacked Ron…" _Maybe I could tell him a little…only a little…_

Severus raised an eyebrow, taking another sip before replying. "You think I do not know that? I was then Mister Potter. I saw the look on your face. I have seen that same gaze in the mirror at times when I bother to look," Severus said and Harry felt like the older man was revealing a bit of himself to repay Harry for his thoughts. "But you, Harry, are not just the Saviour of the Wizarding World. You mean much more than that to many others, most of whom are in this building right now. You must understand, Harry, that the moment you "died"—as you put it—others "died" as well. Without your confidence to instill their belief, with their hero broken and dead, there seems no future for them. The War is over, but everyone is currently more than awake of the threat of Lucius and Blaise." In the pause that followed, Harry half expected to see Draco wince. When he realized that it would not happen, and that Severus was merely finished speaking, he tried to think of something to reply with. What was one to say to an argument like that?

Severus seemed to understand that Harry would need the time, because he took another sip, refilled his cup, and drank again.

Harry felt a joke prickled at the tip of his tongue; he decided to let it loose.

"Too bad it isn't wine, isn't it?"

Severus imitated a look of mock surprise. "Mister Potter, I dare ask: was that a joke?"

Feeling rather proud of himself, Harry let himself smile a little. "Yes, I dare say it _was_. I thought it was funny, too."

"Gryffindor humor, I assure you."

After a while, the smirks and smiles faded away, and again Harry was left with his mind searching for words to counter the silence. He hated silence.

"…Severus…" Harry, despite the countless nights he had spent with the Potions Master, did not really know too much about him. "…I…" how could he ask that question of someone like the man before him? "…crap. Having a conversation with you shouldn't be this hard…"

"Hm," Severus mused. "Perhaps it is my unkind and offputting disposition…" a smirk followed the comment.

_Is he…?_ Harry thought. _Is he trying to make this easy?_ Harry sighed. This was all just too much right now…

"Maybe the hat was right," Harry muttered. "I should have been a Slytherin."

With a suddenly serious voice, Severus said, "The World wouldn't have had faith in a Slytherin."

"Sometimes, dammit, it's not about what the world wants!" Harry couldn't' help but snap. "I've had to struggle against neglecting myself for the first seven years of my life as a wizard! It was always 'Yeah, Voldemort is afraid of you—so fight for us'! I don't know a quarter of the people who whisper my name—and frankly, I tried not to care! It was my childhood, Severus, and 'The World' as you called it almost made it as miserable as the life I had to live with the Dursleys! They expected me to know everything, to do everything, to have everything planned out!"

Severus smiled cruelly. "Heroes _are_ supposed to be exceptional at everything."

But Harry was no longer in a jovial mood, and he took the comment badly. "Exactly! But I wasn't! I'm not! I'm just human! Then when my best friend is almost killed by Blaise everything is supposed to be hunky-dory, because Voldemort is dead and Ron became a Death Eater to infiltrate the enemy ranks? No! What about the efforts of you, of the other Slytherins, of Remus, of Sirius, during the War? No mention. Nothing! And now the world is upset because I'm not the same person I used to be? Fuck. Off." Panting at the end of his small rant, Harry looked on as Severus released a full-hearted chuckle.

_What the hell is up with this guy?_ Harry thought. _I get mad and he laughs at me?_

"Severus," Harry said angrily, "If you think—"

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Mister Potter. I am sure that many have missed you while you were out," Severus said, draining his tea and standing, smirk firmly in place.

_What the hell?_ Harry thought, but stood as well, ready to show the Potions Master to the door. _What was that all about?_

Severus seemed to read his expression correctly. "Harry, it has been months since I have heard you say that many words at once—perhaps a year, if you do not consider the battle plans for the War that we discussed with Dumbledore. If you bother to speak this much to your friend, Granger, then perhaps…we can restore the faith everyone once had in you. I do not want you to end up like Lucius Malfoy, Harry," he paused, and in it frowned. "I do not want you to hate the entire world, when there are still a few good wizards and witches in it. Where do you _I_ would be, if not for those few people? As you said, I did not get a real mention in the War, not in real Wizarding media. However, there is hope…" Severus approached the door, and opened it. "Check past issues of the _Quibbler_, Harry. You may see something there that will raise your own spirits."

Turning back to Harry, Severus asked, expressionlessly, "Will you be making a visit to my chambers tonight, Harry?"

Harry tried to read the Potions Master's face, and got nowhere. After thinking a moment, slowly, he shook his head. "…I have a lot of things to think over now." And indeed he did.

"I see," Severus replied, and Harry could not tell if he was disappointed or happy. In the end, he decided that if he was supposed to know, Severus would tell him.

As Severus mad his way down the corridor from Harry's room, Harry whispered, "Thank you."

_**The Rain sends shivers down my spine and seeps into my memory**_

_**Who was it that loves you so? Who was it that hates you so?**_

_**I gasp in pain—the memories begin to swirl inside my mind.**__—"It's too late"_

* * *

Into this chapter I tried to make you feel how Severus's feelings were getting through to Harry. I couldn't figure it out at first, but now I think, after reading it over, that Severus's words explain themselves. I think he understood it. And I hope that I wasn't too cryptic with the "welcome back" thing that Severus said. If you haven't noticed, though, Harry doesn't spend too much time speaking in the first five chapters, which is why I had Severus make that note. The most I think that Harry has spoken so far, besides spilling his guts to Severus, would be when he spoke to Draco about Ron, or refuted Hermione's argument that people besides friends can betray each other…


	7. Chapter 7

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Seven:** Dreaming

_**From the heart of a dawn fading to blue**_

_**Sorrowful particles like rain pour down incessantly.**_

_**Because people are all caught in nightmares.**_

_**There is neither a vision nor a prophecy to guide them.**__—"Epitaph"_

**July 12, Wednesday, Afternoon, 2000**

Hermione was completely and utterly surprised. When she had seen Draco that morning, he had mentioned a "pleasant surprise" before muttering to himself and walking away.

Never, in a million years after the War, did she guess that Harry would show up at her room door, asking to eat lunch and have afternoon tea with her. Never.

The look in Harry's eyes was kinder, though the shadowy depth shared by Draco and Severus Snape remained. His voice was lighter, as though something deeply troubling had been removed—he almost spoke the way he used to—and his temperament improved greatly—he had even dared to give her a hug, something he hadn't done in almost a year.

What brought along all these changes in Harry, she couldn't even fathom. She was prepared to thank all gods considered to exist because of it. She would thank Draco, too. Obviously, the Slytherin had possessed a hand in whatever had been planned.

"We can eat anywhere on the grounds," Harry said.

Blushing sheepishly, she replied, "I want to eat with Ron."

Of course, considering that Ron was an unconscious body, they couldn't with "with" him—rather, it would be _by_ him—but thinking of it in a positive way gave Hermione even more hope that Ron would live.

_Because I love him_.

Harry smiled at her. "Of course," he answered.

He escorted her through Hogwarts to the Great Hall, the dining room-turned-infirmary for War victims. As they approached Ron's beside, many of the patients smiled at them and waved; 

Harry took the time to smile back, and Hermione had the sudden feeling that Harry had never noticed how many people had been injured by attacks and raids from the War.

_The numbers are thinning now, though; by the end of July the injured should all be cured, and the seriously wounded moved to St. Mungo's by the end of August. Ron will be going…_

"Hermione," Harry called gently, jerking her from her thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Something bothering you?" the genuine concern in his voice made Hermione want to shed tears of joy.

"No. I was thinking about Ron going to St. Mungo's if he doesn't wake up before the end of August…"

Harry sighed as they reached the bed of the boy in question, his eyes sweeping across their best friend's face before he conjured a small table and two chairs. He even waited until Hermione sat before doing so himself.

"Hermione, do you know why I've asked you out to lunch?" Harry asked.

Hermione's eyes rolled as she answered, "Do you need a reason? You're my friend, Harry."

Internally, her mind was reeling. Why would Harry take her to lunch? He must have had some bad news…

Harry shook his head. "It's because I know that soon you have to return to St. Mungo's. I haven't spoken much to you in the short time you've been here, and there is no excuse for that, no matter what my feelings were. I didn't want you to leave thinking you had lost two friends."

Hermione smiled. "I don't think I've lost either of them. In fact, I believe I've gained a few." The Gryffindor's mind flashed to Draco Malfoy, who had warned her of this. _You seemed to have some new friends, too, if Draco knew you well enough to tell me in advance._

Harry shrugged, and while she couldn't interpret the gesture, she smiled anyway. Food had already appeared on the table, but Hermione ignored it. It wasn't as important as the man standing—well, sitting—in front of her.

She chuckled and said, "Well, I hope that you aren't mad at me, but I'm not quite leaving…"

Harry asked, "Why not?"

"Dumbledore offered me a teaching position as Professor of—"

"Muggle Studies," Harry finished, without skipping a beat. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought I'd surprise you with the news. Your birthday is about two weeks away, right? I was planning to tell you then…"

"I wish…" Harry began awkwardly, then continued. "I wish that Ron was here. Then we could have things like…like we want them. We could be happier. I don't want Ron to end up like Neville's parents…"

Hermione sighed. Ever since Harry had discovered the truth of Neville's parents in their fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry had been determined to make sure that no one else had ended up that way. Remus Lupin, a Master of the _Legimens_ spell, had tried to restore them, but had only gotten a few results. Now they could remain sane for moments at a time before relapsing into the remainder of their torture carried through by Voldemort. Even so Neville, who did indeed survive the War, was eternally grateful to Remus, Harry and their causes.

"He won't," Hermione replied, looking over at Ron. He was still. Oh, so still. "Because I love him, and I won't let that happen. I put him in that healing sleep, harry, and I have to believe—even if I die believing it—that he'll come back. If I don't Harry, then there's no way that I could get up in the morning. I would have no reason to live. I'd…"

_I'd be like you_, she finished in her mind. She did not want to bring that up now. Not when Harry was doing so well.

Harry smiled ruefully, and swore.

"What?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"Once," Harry began as though speaking of a distant memory, "Someone told me that 'it is the unwillingness to declare a situation unsalvageable that allows others to have faith'. I suppose it's true…"

_Who would have…?_ Hermione could not think of anyone who would say something like that during their years at Hogwarts.

"Who told you that? I think it's pretty thoughtful," she asked casually.

"No one important," Harry countered nonchalantly.

Hermione did not believe that at all, but didn't want to bother to pry. Harry was much more closed now, and she was happy just to be eating with him.

"So," Harry began while, for the first time since they arrived, looking directly at Ron, 'you really think he'll come back? Do you think you can cure him?"

"If I can't do it, Harry, no one can," Hermione replied. "And can you guess the first thing I will do when he wakes up?"

"Slug him for being a prat?" Harry laughed.

"I'm going to ask him to marry me," Hermione said seriously. "I'm going to look him in the eye, tell him that I love him, and ask him to marry me."

Harry looked surprised. Genuinely.

"Well," Hermione continued, "I do, and I've made him my mind about it. Of course, I'm sure that he's going to be even more surprised than you are, but…"

"Congratulations," Harry said, voice sounding rather awkward, "but I…"

Hermione frowned. She knew what Harry was thinking. "I know it's hard for you to believe that he'll come back, Harry, but it will be okay…"

Suddenly, Harry's face turned serious. "I…I had a dream last night, Hermione."

Hermione's frown deepened. She had been of the opinion that Harry's more persistent nightmares would cease when Voldemort was defeated. This development was decidedly not good for Harry. "What happened?" she asked.

"I…there was just…a reply, in my mind…of the last moments of the Final Battle with Voldemort. I confronted Ron after Voldemort lost his footing and fell to the ground. After I talked to Ron, he disarmed Voldemort and I finished him off. Severus injured Bellatrix at the same moment; you and Draco were hiding in case we needed you. Then Blaise went crazy. He attacked Ron, called him a traitor, and then put the Cruciatus curse on him. Severus jumped in to stop it after I pulled Blaise's wand away…"

This wasn't any new information to Hermione, but she knew that Harry always had to run through his dreams, like a story, to remember them. "When did you wake up?"

"At the end—I just know it is—I see blood. Just mounds of it, everywhere." Harry looked as though he was reliving the dream in his mind. "I know I made that blood fall, Hermione. But I don't remember what I did…"

Hermione was in shock, both from the dream and because Harry had decided to tell her something so intimate. "Perhaps…it had something to do with the six—nine wizards you killed…the Death Eaters, remember?"

"No, Hermione, I don't—that's the problem!" Harry hissed angrily. "I…I don't know who the last three are. I must have killed them without magic, but…what could I have done to have so much blood on my hands?"

Hermione sighed; she couldn't just let Harry be tortured like this. He had gone through nightmares for seven years; no one had tried to help him. He may have lost his way a bit, but Harry was still very much her best friend. "I—I could try…_Legimens_…"

"No," said a stern voice from behind them.

"Draco," Harry said, not fazed. If Harry wasn't surprised, then how long had the Slytherin been there? "…I knew you were there. How much did you hear?"

"Enough," Draco said. "Is this the first night you had this dream?"

"Why do you care? Where did you come from? Why do you always follow me?"

Draco said, without missing a beat, "Because I want you to see Ron again."

Hermione couldn't help the breath that escaped her. Harry fell silent, his agitation ebbing away; he nodded towards Draco as though he had heard a code that he now understood. But Hermione had the feeling that he was just pretending to understand—like how he hadn't understood Snape telling him he need that brunch.

"Why," Hermione asked, "didn't you tell us you were here?"

"Because Harry wouldn't have told you about his dream otherwise."

Hermione knew that this was a lie. Draco had gotten along with everyone in the castle since his return—why would Harry be cold all of a sudden?

"Harry," Draco said, "_Legimens_ is not simply something you use to read thoughts—"

" 'It is a way into the mind that one cannot sometimes escape'," Harry finished. "I've had that speech from Remus, too, Draco. We all have."

"Then why would you put Hermione at risk like that?"

"I wasn't going to let her do it!"

"Will you please," Hermione interrupted, "not talk about me as though I'm not here?"

"You know," Draco continued, ignoring her, "that all our minds are dangerous right now, full of open and repressed memories from the War. That's precisely why Lucius and Blaise—" the wince, as usual, followed the name, "are such a great threat. This is not a _game_, Harry, and I will not let you place your friends in harm's way simply because you don't think about the things you say—"

There was a deep, resounding _sigh_, and everyone froze, looking around. Hermione tensed; she did not make the sound, and Harry hadn't. Draco had been speaking…

"Who's there?" Hermione called. She wasn't sure how she would determine who it was, with all the patients in the Great Hall, but she could try. The demeanor of the Hall fell into silence, and became just as tensed as she was; what if someone was attacking the castle? Hermione made a grab for her wand.

_I will not let anyone touch Ron! None of you can have him! I'll—_

"No," Draco trailed off. "No. It…it's Ron…" he smiled at Hermione, shaking her hands from her pockets with joy. "That was Ron!"

Hastily, Hermione pulled herself from Draco and pressed an ear to Ron's lips. A smile spread to her own cheeks as she exhaled, saying, "That _is_ Ron…"

He was breathing more deeply. A lot more deeply.

"He's…he's breathing without my magic…" she said slowly, looking up.

Apparently, the smiling was contagious; Harry sent one her ways.

Hugging her tightly as though she was a sibling, Draco said, "Congratulations," before telling both Gryffindors that he was off to tell Remus Lupin.

"Please," Hermione yelled as he departed, "Please, tell Arthur about Ron, too!" she was weeping then, with joy, and Harry had to hold her so that she could keep from collapsing—her legs had begun to give way as she spoke.

She was so happy that Ron was fighting to come back.

_**Breathe with me…**__--"Spiritualized"_


	8. Chapter 8

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Eight:** Lacerations of the Heart

_**No matter what, I want to continue to believe**_

_**A flower of passion**_

_**Is blooming…far far away from me…**__--"Stone Roses"_

**July 12, Wednesday, Evening, 2000**

"Ron? He's doing better?" the look on Remus's face was enough to make Draco happy all over again.

"Yes. Hermione says that he is not breathing on his own," Draco said happily.

"I haven't seen you this excited since Voldemort was defeated.

"I haven't seen _you_ this excite since you met me."

Remus chuckled, an shook his head. "I am happy for all of you. I will contact Arthur as soon as you leave. I shall call Molly as soon I ask speak to him as well, and Sirius will be so glad—"

Behind Draco, the entrance to Remus's office opened and a dark but decidedly female voice said, "So…_he's_ here…Remus…?"

Draco sneered at the voice, not bothering to greet it. She was Luna Lovegood, former Ravenclaw—now werewolf, thanks to a surprise attack from one Fenrir Greyback, the very same werewolf who had turned Remus. It was the only thing that they had in common, Luna and Remus; unfortunately, Draco and the blonde female shared a deeper similarity—they were both in love with the man behind the desk before them.

Draco bit his lip to keep from saying something that would upset Remus. The Eldest had taken Luna under his paw, per se, feeling horrible about the attack and wishing that he had been there in his right mind to help her. However, there had been a full moon that night, and Remus—in complete wolf form—had been the one to slay Greyback in the first place.

Draco, in the past, was jealous that he did not have those permanent ties to Remus. But he would never admit that to himself least of all to the party, members involved.

Luna approached Remus without prompt, hugging the former Gryffindor and sitting on a stool she had spotted in a corner of the room.

"Of course he's here," Remus said happily. "I told you he would be visiting, Luna."

"How's…Harry?" Luna asked with genuine interest; However, her eyes flashed in a way that told Draco she cared nothing of _his_ well being.

"He is…alright," Draco said, looking at Remus in a way that told him to get rid of Luna—he needed to tell the other male about Harry's dream. "I will send him your regards."

"May I," Lupin asked Luna, "have a moment with Draco?"

Luna looked surprised that she was being kicked out; She stood with grace, but sneered at Draco as she walked past, and smiled at Remus as she exited, shutting the doors behind her.

"Charm them," Draco said wryly.

"Why? Luna would never—"

"Charm the room, Remus. Every door and every window."

"Draco, I don't—"

"Do it," the Slytherin said in his coldest tones, "Now."

Hesitantly, Remus did as he was bid. "What happened to Harry?"

"Last night, he had a nightmare."

Remus leaned forward on his desk. "About what? He hasn't had a nightmare since—"

"Shortly after the War ended. You told me, once…I heard the important segment, I think. He said at the end, that there was blood everywhere; everything in his mind was smeared with blood."

"Who…why blood? What does it mean?"

"…it was the blood of the other three, Remus."

"The three…Death Eaters? The missing ones?"

"…yes. He is fairly sure, and distressed because he cannot remember what he did to them. For there to be bloodshed, he believes he did something without magic. Something horrible."

Remus took a moment to ponder this. "Perhaps…he did. But, they were Death Eaters, so doesn't that…make him feel better?"

"This is Harry we're talking about. He's a Gryffindor. Of course it bothers him. He needs to know what he did to them." A sigh. "Hermione offered to try _Legimens_."

The reaction from the werewolf was something Draco had never seen. He rose, quickly, knocking over many notebooks and papers while doing so. He reached for a shelf behind his desk—Floo powder.

Draco tried to tell him what happened after, "But, Remus, I stopped them…she didn't do it. Harry said he wouldn't let her!"

Remus still reached for the powder, and Draco scrambled from his chair to Remus to restrain the ex-Professor's hands.

"They aren't going to do anything, Remus! There's no need for you to send Hogwarts into an uproar!"

The look that then crossed Remus's face was pure, unmasked agony. "You have no idea," Remus said, "how horrible being lost in the corridors of someone's mind is. Especially now that the War has just finished. You have no idea what memories are holding people captive. You have no idea how dangerous it is."

Draco pulled the ex-Professor back into his seat and replied. "You've told them. I've told them. They know. And you've done all that you can." Satisfied that the werewolf wasn't going to rush to Hogwarts in a state of panic, Draco took up his abandoned seat, smirking. "Do you truly worry that much? We are no longer children, Remus. And the War has changed things. Drastically." A frown.

Despite the current, pressing issue of Harry's dream, Draco found his eyes scourging the shelves of Remus's office.

"What?" Remus asked, watching the younger's eyes weep the room.

"I…I want a bottle of Wolfsbane," Draco said quietly, his eyes resting on a small bottle of silver liquid by a window directly behind Remus's head.

"Whatever for?" Remus chuckled. "Although your temper is wild, Draco, I doubt you're becoming a werewolf."

"…Just in case of an emergency, that's all," Draco said, avoiding the accompanying memory of his burning face in Harry's room the night before. "I simply thought I should be prepared. I've never thought of it until now, but…"

Remus cleared his throat. "You may have the one behind me," he summoned it with a quick wave of his wand, and handed it to Draco, who nodded appreciatively.

"Thank you," Draco said.

"With Luna here as well, I do believe it's a good idea," Remus replied. "Especially with Lucius and his apprentice running around…"

The fact that Remus had avoided using Blaise's name was not lost on Draco. "No new attacks?"

"Not as of right now, no. However, I have begun to research into the subject of magical affects on the psyche. There are a few books on the subjects, which I find surprising. They all saw the same thing about Imperious, though."

"Which is?"

"That it only wills the victim into obedience, and that the quality is a fatal flaw in that it can be resisted or made immune to. One of the more recent texts, _Piercing the Mind with Magic_, states that he mind is like a knot, and even Imperious can be unraveled through _Legimens_ if one knows where to look."

Draco's eyes turned serious. The Slytherin didn't like how Remus was speaking of _Legimens_—as though he was preparing to take a deep risk. "Don't do anything dangerous, Remus."

The werewolf did not meet his eyes. "I do dangerous things every day, Draco. You cannot ask me not to." He sighed. "I was thinking, that perhaps, if I am forced to create a more powerful "thought-viewing" spell, that I could try it on Neville's parents…again…"

Draco took a deep breath. "What is it like…in someone else's mind?"

"In general, Draco, or the Longbottoms?"

"Either."

"When you're trapped in your memories, Draco, they play over and over. They make you relive your feelings, thoughts, everything. And you cannot change it. To free someone of it, you must convince their inner selves to ignore it, or get past their fears long enough for them to leave that memory. But with victims of the War—or in the Longbottoms' case, Voldemort's eleven year old reign—there is not just one, but many memories to pass to free yourself. Unless controlled by magic, these memories are chronological. And since you are in a person's mind, you live the memories as though you were that person."

"…could you tell me," Draco asked quietly, "What memory holds the Longbottoms captive?"

Remus was silent for a long while. "The pain. The pain of Cruciatus, combined with trying to resist Imperious. I nearly went under myself trying to drag them out. But I can resist Imperious, to a certain point, and so Cruciatus was the most difficult thing to overcome. The pain was not constant, as I had feared, but in bursts.

Their memories were the same, and neither one could completely overcome Cruciatus—it still grips them now. But, maybe, this spell cold do something…if I can construct it correctly. A spell that could reveal memories for the past incidents they truly are. A spell that could strip the first-person reality that one experiences them in the mind…" he trailed off grabbing some scrap of parchment and recording hid thoughts.

Draco shook his head. "A researcher to the end, you always were."

"Always," Remus smiled, while writing.

"Don't get too absorbed, Remus."

"No promises."

"I take it that's my queue to go then?"

"Not necessarily. Just a moment."

"Before I go, Remus…what was that tidbit you didn't bother to tell me?"

Nothing important. Just that Luna is moving into Grimmaud Place with Sirius and I."

Draco stood abruptly. "What?" Anger openly showed itself on his face. How could Remus do that?! How could the elder be so blind to the obvious attempts that Luna made on him every day? Aside from that, how could Remus be blind to the animosity that they showed towards each other?!

Remus looked surprised. "Is there something wrong with that arrangement? We've even created another containment chamber for her."

Draco folded his arms. "No. I suppose nothing is wrong with that," he said spitefully.

"If there's something wrong, I'd really—"

"No, there's nothing wrong, Remus," Draco sniffed coldly. "I'll be taking my leave now." Reaching in his pockets, he found a small bag of floo powder—just enough to get back.

"But, Draco—"

"Go back to work, Remus." Draco said, still clearly upset. Then without another parting word, he left placing a locking charm on the door behind him.

Remembering that Remus had charmed the room to silence, Draco smirked.

_Let's see Luna make her way back through that…___

_**Even so, protecting my heart…**_

_**No surrender**_

_**Protecting my feelings for you…**_

_**No surrender**__—"No Surrender"_


	9. Chapter 9

I want everyone to know that these characters do not belong to me. Neither do the song lyrics...**

* * *

**

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Nine:** Beautiful Alone

_**I'm trained to be ruthless, and yet**_

_**These tears of mine won't stop flowing**_

_**Though I try, the stains of my sins won't leave me**_

_**Defiled, though still clean, their screams will linger, always…**__--"EstE"_

**July 12, Wednesday, Night, 2000**

Severus sat across from Harry, brows knitted as the youth told him about his dream.

"Will you be alright, Harry?" Severus asked when the tale was done. The Professor, however, came to regret the words of anguish crossed Harry's face. It was the look The Boy Who Lived took whenever he didn't recognize Severus's actions.

Harry still answered hesitantly, "I need to know what I did to them."

"We will never figure out that one," Severus said simply, in his usual short and cold tones. "If no one has found their bodies by now, they never will, and _Legimens_ is too difficult to attempt, as you informed me that Draco explained to you and Granger."

"I _will_ figure out what I've done," Harry maintained.

"Why does it matter to you? They were Death Eaters."

"They were Human beings, Severus!"

_Ah! So his Gryffindor side emerges…_The Professor thought.

"Perhaps, but they killed and tortured many. And they took Ron from you."

"Ron has nothing to do with—"

"He has everything to do with this, Harry. He was the reason you killed them."

Harry paused, and said slowly, "A pensieve. I should put my memories into one, and watch. That way, it's neutralized,; it won't trap me the same way _Legimens_ allows."

He looked at Severus for approval. Severus would not give it.

_Why do _you_ care so much? _A voice taunted. _Don't tell me you actually care for him…?_

Severus did not answer that thought, but he did answer Harry's suggestion. "No."

"Why not?"

"You can be lost in a pensieve, as well."

"But it's not the same kind of lost. Someone can take you back."

"No, I say."

"Why, dammit!?"

"Because, Harry there are some memories not meant to be relived!" Severus knew that he was leaving himself open, knew that he was pulling Harry into stranger territory, but he hoped that it would do more good to Harry than harm to himself.

The edge, the experience that his voice implied to the subject seemed to make Harry worry for the other man. "Severus…" he said shortly, "What are you talking about?"

"There are some things not to be relived. That is why memories can trap people in the first place. Ask Lupin if he wants to relive the moment he became a werewolf; ask Draco if he wants to relive Blaise choosing the Death Eaters over him; ask—"

"What about you?" Harry asked softly.

"Severus stared into the flames of the fire before him. They were seated in Severus's den, the Potions Master accompanied by his usual glass of wine as he pondered the way of answering Harry's question. Every instinct in his body rebelled against doing so, but his reason was intact. Harry was suffering, and despite his discoveries about life, was still teetering at the brink of naïveté with his views.

"Someone I thought loved me betrayed me," Severus answered. "For now, that is all you need to know."

"Severus…" Harry said slowly.

The Potions Master was beginning to regret Harry's ability to speak his first name. Usually, those who said his name said it with anger, sorrow, fear, spite or accusation. Those who usually said his name said it coldly, or with indifference and spite. Those who spoke his name spoke it with hatred, as though each syllable were a knife to his heart.

That was not how Harry pronounced his name.

He took a deep draught from his wine, his thought of Harry's words and Harry's voice and Harry's speech filling his mind.

But he quickly drank them away.

After doing so, he replied to Harry, careful to hide his scars from the past, "What is done is done—it will never change. If I can resolve within myself to deal with my demons, so speak, then you can certainly avoid reaching the state in which I now live."

"Is that what you think? That I'm going to become like you?"

_No,_ Severus thought in return, _I thought you would become like Lucius. Now I know that I was wrong._

"That is what your friends would think. That _is_ what they think, though they may hide their thoughts. And I do not blame them." _Why?_ He asked himself, _why did you bring this confused, lost boy into your world?_

"I am living my own life. I admit that I've always been influenced by others. My parents, Ron and 'Mione, Dumbledore—even you," Harry conceded. "But it is still my life, and I still have the last say. I may have given up hope for others, but I can still make my own if I need it."

As he heard this, the Potions Master mused the answer to his inner question to himself. _Did you lead him to yourself because you thought he would save you from Lucius? Did you think Harry would bring you Salvation? Or did you want to drag him down with you?_

Severus stood, which was a clear indication that he was ending both dialogues—with Harry and himself. He gazed with distaste at his glass of wine, sending it away with a wave of his wand.

"Severus…what's wrong?" Harry asked.

The Potions Master, in a rare show of abandon—giving up the fight within himself—allowed the anguish in his soul to show in his eyes as they met Harry's. _Please, do not say my name like that._

"I…I am tired, Harry," he said. "I am going to retire." He hoped that showing Harry that small bit of himself would make him understand. He did not want Harry to remain with him; he denied any logic his mind pursued to reason with his own decision.

But Harry looked worried. And not at all as if he was going to give up any time soon.

"…I'm tired, too, Severus," the boy said, "I'm tired of nightmares when I sleep, tired of nightmares in my memories." He stood as well, taking a step towards his former Professor.

_Every inch the Gryffindor,_ the elder thought wryly, and he stepped back, countering Harry's approach. This boy, whom Severus had hated for reminding him of his mistakes—mistakes that still haunted him. Harry had never changed. Even now, the Gryffindor was a constant reminder of the path he chose. So what _had_ changed?

"Severus," Harry said sternly, taking another step. "I know what you are avoiding. You can't avoid _me_. We are both tired, but that doesn't mean you should run away from me."

"I am not running." Severus said this both to Harry and himself. He took another step back. "I am…simply removing myself from something painful." He regretted the words as he spoke them, and cursed himself.

_Harry is _not_ the naïve Gryffindor he used to be!_

In his steps, Harry faltered. "Am I…causing you pain? Or are you talking about your past?"

_Both, _Severus answered mentally, now_ stop_._ Stop this now. Right now._

But his resolve was strong, from years of honing and his ordeal through life. He would not lose to this boy. He closed his eyes in thought, and in concentration.

"Severus," Harry called. He wanted an answer. A part of the Potions Master wanted to give it to him. He kindly told it to shut up.

"Severus agreed with himself this time.

With will borne from years of pain, he said, straightening up, his eyes meeting Harry's like he used to as the boy's Professor, "Leave my chambers, Mister Potter."

By instinct, Harry turned from Severus in intimidation; the elder man would have smirked at himself had he not been in this particular situation.

However, Harry, seemed realize what the other man was doing, turned back and said, "Is that really what you want? For me to leave and never come back?"

Severus did not trust himself to discuss the answer.

Harry saw this, and said, "Severus, if you want me to stay, then tell me. Don't force me to leave because of whatever twisted train of thought you have."

Severus closed his eyes again.

_Twisted thoughts? This scenario is twisted, Potter. You should not be here. This relationship should not exist._

"We know each other, Severus," Harry said, "We know each others' pain."

_You know nothing about my pain._

When Severus opened his eyes, when he had reached to tell Harry to leave, he found that his former student was inches away from him. Some instinct drew a deep breath into him, as though to calm himself.

"Why are you afraid of me?" Harry asked, leaning close.

_Because you are a reincarnation of my past. Because I will not ponder any future involving you._

Attempting to direct the flow of this one-sided argument away from himself, Severus answered Harry's question—and every one that had preceded it—with one of his own.

"Why is it that you want so badly to stay?"

The question seemed to jar Harry severely, and he almost stumbled back, Severus immediately snatching up every scrap of personal space he could.

But he could never have prepared himself for the answer.

"Because, Severus, when I'm with you…" Harry slowly came to meet the older man's eyes, "when I'm with you, my nightmares go away."

That answer was more than Harry knew. Severus, for once, had been rendered both physically and mentally speechless.

"_I haven't…had a sleepless night,"_ Harry's words from two nights ago found their way back to the front of Severus's thoughts, _"Not since…"_

"Severus," Harry said, as thought it pained him. "I…I don't want any more nightmares. And recently, the moments I've spent with you have been the most enjoyable ones I've had since the end of the War. I don't know what bothers you, but don't push me away. Please. I-I can't deal…" The boy was beginning to break down, Severus could see it in Harry's eyes. "…with seeing so much blood on my hands. So much blood, Severus, so much…"

The Potions Master would never, even through memory, explain what happened when Harry had finished speaking. He could not indicate any train of thought, any possible reasoning. He could not tell himself how his lips ended up poised against Harry's, or whether it was the younger's intention when he had slumped against Severus.

Severus almost felt like he could no longer tell himself anything.__

_**Why fight love and instinct?**_

_**Here and now is true paradise**_

_**With your beautiful smiling face,**_

_**I know we'll have no regrets.**__—"Bossonova Casonova"_

* * *

I am so sorry that I haven't been updating. There a short story behind this:

I have currently about forty or so chapter of this story, which I was planning on typing up and uploading. However, I started my first year of college last year, and my friends who also write and read my fanfiction as well. We had a get together in the fall of 2007, and when I left said gathering, I left some clothes and some papers and a bottle of moisturizer for my hair there. Normally, I would just go back and get it, but the bus ride is like two hours. I called her mum several times during the year to ask if she had the papers, because I wasn't going to catch the bus if she didn't have them, and she told me 'no' everytime. However, when my friend came back home for the summer this year, she said that she did indeed have them and that her mother had just thought that they were hers instead of mine. So, I'm sorry everyone.

What makes it worse is that, because I was typing chapters 9-12 while at her house, those were the chapters I lost, along with chapters 30-40…so, I was royally screwed.

But! I have them back NOW, so it's okay. This story means a lot to me, because I've invested so much energy into organizing timelines and schedules for characters and things, and I think I lost my muse when I lost the papers…which is why I haven't been able to update anything else. I hope now that I have this stuff back, I'll be able to do more updates for "Crave" and "The Kicks".

Thank you so much for being patient—I'll be sure to have chapters uploaded more regularly now. And you guys, don't forget to check my bio periodically—I actually put up status updates about stories that I haven't updated in a while…


	10. Chapter 10

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Ten:** Requiem for the Past

_**Though I've seen friendships ruined when love is involved,**_

_**I just can't resist anymore.**_

_**I need you, more than you'll ever know**_

_**Just the thought of the taste of your lips gives me chills.**_

_**How I've longed for your gentle caress**_

_**In your arms, hold you close, one more kiss.**__—"Bossonova, Casanova"_

Harry almost immediately melted into his embrace with Severus. Almost. But a part of him, somehow detached from his kiss with the older man, told him…

…_stop…_

And, reluctantly, Harry pulled away, willing himself to keep looking at Severus despite what had just happened.

It hadn't occurred to him until that moment, but over the small number of weeks he had spend with Severus, over the many days, he had never actually _kissed_ Severus. There had been no intimacy about them at all, and still, it was the closest thing Harry had ever had to a relationship.

_I am so dysfunctional._

But as he looked into the eyes of his childhood Professor, he flinched. He could see the regret, the thought in the Potions Master's mind of their actions being a mistake; he could see the doubt in the elder man's eyes.

"I…" Harry began, but the words on his tongue feel as he continued to look at the man standing before him. Everything since the moment they had both slept together seemed lain clearly in front of them. Before, there were no feelings, no boundaries between them to consider—they met each other each night to remind themselves that they were indeed alive. There had been no bonds, no associations to the past accompanied this.

But the moment Harry's lips touched Severus's, that facsimile of a dream shattered, leaving them broken pieces that revealed their true natures. What would Severus do, Harry wondered. Pick up his pieces and run?

Harry now knew that Severus's past still deeply disturbed him. Who had he loved? Who had betrayed him? Severus would never answer those questions directly. But, apparently something about the Professor's past compelled him to care to some extent for Harry.

And then, there were Harry's own feelings. They were confused, jumbled and difficult for even Harry himself to read, but he knew that Severus was a main part of them. He knew quite clearly that he had feelings for his old Professor. But he was reluctant to trust anyone, even Severus who had seasoned experience with betrayal.

"_But the sad thing is that only friends can betray you; that's why it's called betrayal."_

His own words floated back to him and he took an unconscious step back from Severus.

"_We'll all let someone down somewhere in life."_

Severus sighed, and silently looked at Harry—at all the shattered pieces of their feelings. The Boy Who Lived knew that was the object of the Potions Master's stare.

"Harry." Severus sounded resigned, liked he had given up. His head even fell to his shoulders. Severus sighed again. "It…it was Lucius Malfoy, Harry."

"What?" Harry blinked, confused.

It seemed as though that word broke the spell; whatever it was that had kept the Potions Master facing him loosened its group, and Harry could only watch as Severus traveled to a chair, wearily summoning a glass a of wine. Harry wanted to stop him, to tell him that sulking over a glass of wine was not the way to solve every problem.

"Lucius Malfoy was the man who betrayed me," Severus said slowly.

"_Someone I thought loved me betrayed me,"_ fragments of his recent memories were pouring through now, _"For now that is all you need to know."_

Had this been in another life, another dream, Harry would have laughed but instead he could only look at Severus, pity shining through his eyes even though he already knew that the older man did not want it.

"He was," Severus continued hesitantly, "my Slytherin equivalent of Ron, though he certainly did not turn out as promising as your comrade."

The reference to his fellow Gryffindor surprised Harry; Severus and Ron had never agreed on anything.

Apparently, that surprise showed up on his face, because then Severus added, "while Ron was an accomplished dunderhead, when it came to defending those he loved, he managed to somehow pull himself in order. Despite his utter incompetence at most tasks he attempted to complete in the past, I am sure that he has changed beyond recognition. I know that you and Granger will be surprised. You do not become a Death Eater without sustaining lasting scars."

Without waiting—or allowing—Harry's reply, the Head of Slytherin continued.

"In any case, Lucius Malfoy was the only true friend I had. Coming from a family whose complete aim was to overtake the Malfoys in wealth and stature—which we have already done—Lucius was not my ideal image of a friend. In the beginning, I would have rather remain to myself, a trait that I continue to possess until recently." Severus looked pointedly at Harry, who shrugged.

_You wanted this as much as I did,_ Harry thought to himself. He did not remark out loud, though, for fear of ruining Severu's story-telling mood.

"I…befriended him, as I am sure you expected," the Potions Master embellished, "And secretly, I found that we both detested our arrogant, competitive parents. Despite their rivalry, both groups of parents, you see, pretended to be nice to each other instead of simply hiding behind their family feud. We were caught in the middle, and we resented it.

"That was when Voldemort began to rise. Besides my time with Lucius, my parents kept me locked in my house, which I never minded, since I had never had another place to go…"

Harry remembered his long, eleven year stay at Privet Drive in his cupboard. How was it that he and Severus Snape were alike? Of course, there were differences, too. Severus grew to even expect Lucius's company as they continued in their relationship, Harry was sure; however, he had never liked being alone, but grew to share in the knowledge that Voldemort would kill all those close to him, and so he distanced himself from his friends during the war.

"However," Severus pushed on, his voice taking dismal tones, "the summer of my seventh year was when he told me that his parents were pushing his arranged marriage. So he suggested running away to Voldemort. I had not heard too much about him, and because I did not have that information, I made one of the gravest mistakes of my life. And I will never be forgiven for it. I will never forgive myself for making those choices," Severus looked into the distance, unconsciously swirling the glass in his hands. He sighed deeply.

"It wasn't until years later that he betrayed me. Despite all the bloodshed, all of the doubts I had been housing about my decision to join His Superior Darkness…I could be at peace knowing that Lucius was at my side. I knew that we would be caught eventually, and that we would die. 

But I took solace in the knowledge that we would die together. That I would die with the man I loved."

That had been the first time, Harry realized later, that he had ever heard that word escape Severus's lips. Until that very moment, he had never really processed that Severus could have such feelings. Severus was…a loner, and Harry had assumed that he had always been that way.

As he looked at Severus, the older man refused to meet his eyes, staring at the wine glass in his grip instead.

And that grip tightened. "that was before he betrayed me. That was before I had realized that Lucius did not truly love me, and like all of the Malfoy who preceded him, his true goal was wealth and power. I was simply an _idle hobby_," Severus gritted his teeth as he spoke, and Harry swallowed hard, "that amused him on his way to serving Voldemort." Severus was silent after that, and Harry knew that the man wouldn't go on any more. The silence stretched, neither man attempting to say a thing.

Harry could not imagine being betrayed in the same way as Severus—while Ron becoming a Death Eater had hurt him deeply, it seemed nothing compared to the anguish that the Potions Master seemed to be holding back at the moment.

Harry honestly had no idea what to think. Severus did not have to tell him about his past in the first place.

Slowly, Harry said, as though to help "But Lucius…he will be caught, and he will die. Then you can move on. You'll have your vengeance. You won't have to wait much longer." Harry's own anger at Lucius began to build, and he clenched his own fist.

Severus's voice was no longer full of emotion as he said in reply, "No. Revenge will not remedy my thoughts. Revenge will not satisfy me. It is not what I want. It will do me no good."

"How can revenge do you no good, Severus? He deserves to die. If you had the chance to kill him, would you hesitate?"

"No," Severus answered sharply, "but not because he betrayed me; I would kill him for the suffering he's caused, for the citizens, wizard and muggle that he had killed. I would not be so foolhardy and selfish as to kill him for my own personal reasons. Had I not accepted his friendship in the first place…"

"Severus! He destroyed your life. No one trusts you because of you ex-Death Eater status! You've been mistreated for most of your life because of him!"

"All of that was a lack of good judgment on my part."

"Even if it is the last thing I do," Harry began, "Severus, I will—"

Severus held up his free hand, bringing silence to the room for the briefest of moments. "Do not make any promises that you will find difficult to keep. You already have squandered your childhood ensuring that such things happen; do not waste such a troublesome ability on one such as myself."

"What if I want to? What if I want to waste it on you? I think you—"

"Keep your gifts to yourself, Mister Potter," Severus said, his voice suddenly cold.

_Why?_ Harry asked himself. _Why does Severus always revert back? We take one step forward only to take three back!_

_Fuck him._

"I promise you," Harry began slowly, "that—"

The look on Severus's face was enough to stop him in his tracks. Harry took a deep breath. "Do you think this is the right thing to do? To punish yourself by locking your unresolved feelings away?"

"They are not unresolved," Severus replied sharply. "Just because I cannot be forgiven for journeying on an unjustified killing spree does not give way to the logic that my feelings are unresolved."

Harry felt as though he should have been angry at that comment; but he was not. "I…I wasn't myself, Severus. That was not my fault. I don't even remember…what I did."

At this, Severus seemed to forget the results of his own tragic tale, his expression relaxing a little. "You have no memory of the entire night?"

"…I remember you stunning Bellatrix, and my conversation with Ron, but right after I killed Voldemort and Blaise hit Ron…I just froze. And I blacked out. The next thing I remember I was…at Hogwarts…"

Severus sighed, shaking his head. "This is a problem that must be stopped," he muttered, though Harry could hear him. Looking the Gryffindor in the eye, he said, more loudly, "_Harry_. This War _must_ end, once and for all."

The conviction with which he said those words jarred Harry severely. Of course, the man mean the aftermath of the War, the pain and the strife that so many witches and wizards still suffered. The pain that the Order still felt. The suffering that he still felt.

With a sullen tone, Harry answered, "I agree."

"And," Severus continued thoughtfully, "What of Hogwarts? Shall we continue to let our differences shape the villains of the next century?"

"Severus?" Harry questioned.

"…my personal thoughts," the Potions Master offered.

He did not embellish upon his thoughts.

Harry took his tale as a sign that it was time to go. Severus, after recounting his tale, look tired and old in the same way that Dumbledore seemed when he was particularly stressed.

Standing to indicate his departure, Harry headed towards the door, and Severus did not attempt to stop him. However, before the door opened with a heavy groan, the Potions Master muttered a quiet, "Harry."

It was so soft, the word that came from the older man's lips, and Harry almost missed it. "…yes?"

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Severus."

That night, Harry's sleep was dreamless.

_**Sleeping quietly, your scar**_

_**Seems to be healed by the words of prayer.**_

_**The words that were carved in a stone monument over and over again**_

_**Became a star**_

_**That vanishes into the rising sun.**__—"Epitaph"_


	11. Chapter 11

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Eleven:** **Houses of Hogwarts**

_**So, after descending from that sky,**_

_**Can you see me now?**_

_**Can you hear me, I wonder?**_

_**My voice flies away on silver sings.**__—"Sora no Soko; The bottom of the sky"_

**July 13, Thursday, Morning, 2000**

Hermoine was constantly by Ron's bed after the previous day. He was indeed breathing by himself; the healer had almost lost all hope for the man she loved.

Over the course of her faithful, patient waiting, she was visited by a number of people who had heard of Ron's improvement.

First of the visitors was, of course, Draco.

"Don't forget about yourself," he advised her. "I realize that you care a lot about Ron, but don't neglect yourself in the process. He is relying on your magic to live. It will serve him no good if you are weakened, because your magic will be sluggish at best."

Hermione took in the words with care; despite Draco becoming a more amiable person, that advice was the best thing he had ever said to her.

"You are not the only one who worries about him…" Draco said as he departed.

The next to visit was the entire Weasley family. Arthur Weasley silently cried, and Molly hugged Ron's unconscious body, tears gushing from her eyes as she prayed aloud for her son to make a complete recovery. Fred and George were solemn while the rest of their family grieved but could not keep quiet about playing a prank on their little brother when he woke up. Bill and Charlie remained silent after telling Ron to "get better," and even Ginny obtained permission from St. Mungo's to visit, and cried as she magically fluffed Ron's pillows and placed an additional healing charm on him, so that he could heal through Hermione's magic, but more quickly.

It was Percy's response to his brother's body that shocked them all, as he muttered, "Traitor."

Molly gasped. In all honesty, Hermione was not surprised. There were many other wizards and witches of the same opinion—those who believed that Ron had completely betrayed them all.

Even while he was unconscious, the Wizarding World held a trial to determine Ron's fate. It took a personal testimony from The Boy Who Lived, and input from Dumbledore before he was relieved of the charges of treachery to the Magical World. But there were still other pending charges that could only be taken care of if he awoke, and they would have to face those when they got there.

Hermione herself had tended to Ron even when he was being held prisoner, and lashed out against the Ministry Officials who tried to drag her away from her beloved. She had almost hexed Percy when he had tried to persuade her to let go of him and leave.

Since the middle of her fifth year, there had been animosity between many of the Weasleys and Percy. Hermione was taken aback merely by the fact that he had arrived with them. The only family member left who freely associated with Percy was his mother—that damage had been done to his family ties when he had refused to take up for Harry during his younger years.

However, as far as Ron was concerned, Percy was in quite a plight. Now that Arthur had been installed as Minister, Percy was torn; angered because he had worked so hard for a position that he did not receive, and humbled because he believed that his own insolence would cost him his current job. Even Lupin, the werewolf, had been given a position that was credited more so than his own.

Hermione scowled at Percy, and said loud enough for all nearby to hear, "Percy, if you do not want to be here, then take your leave."

Percy opened his mouth as if to reply but closed it.

The Weasley family remained for two hours, catching up business at Hogwarts.

"How…how is Harry?" Ginny asked with caution. Of course, everyone had heard of Harry's lapse of sanity. Everyone had worried about him tremendously. To keep them aware of his mood, Hermione spoke to Molly often.

With a happy smile that portrayed her relief, Hermione replied, "Much better, I assure you!"

Ginny smiled, and her features for several moments, forsook the sullen expression that her force had adopted during the War. It was a welcome sight for Hermione's eyes.

After all saying something to Ron—even Percy, who glanced nervously at his father before telling Ron to "recover soon"—the Weasleys departed, passing Dumbledore and exchanging pleasantries with him before he approached Hermione. She had prepared a seat while he was conversing with the Weasleys.

"Hello, my dear Hermione," he said as he sat, not wasting time. "I received your message of Ron's improvement some hours ago, I apologize for my delayed visit. Have you been here since yesterday?"

Hermione nodded. It had been some while since she had seen Dumbledore. He was constantly looking for Lucius and Blaise in conjunction with the Ministry.

"Have you heard of Harry's condition, as well?" Hermione asked.

The Headmaster smiled. "It seems his rut is over. Draco and Remus Lupin keep me well informed."

Hermione blushed; the idea of Draco as a spy for the Headmaster stuck in her mind.

"How goes the search for Lucius?"

"I fear, Madam Granger, that we will not find them until they want to be found. And by then, it will be too late. But," Dumbledore sighed. "Alas, there are other matters that weigh on my mind. Since Hogwarts remains a stronghold for the War, and those recovering within it…should we send them to St. Mungo's, where their safety is not quite so guaranteed? Or, on the other hand, do we create a new building for the children that may not be quite as safe? One or the other seems to be the only choices that I have so far, for to mix the two together does not seem the right path."

Hermione sighed. "The most difficult decisions are the ones we would rather not make," she said sadly.

"Wise words from a woman who has matured before my eyes," came Dumbledore's reply. There was a pause before he continued, as though he wanted Hermione to look within herself and see the words as true. "Severus Snape came to speak to me this morning. He offered his resignation to me for the following school year."

Hermione gasped. Snape was going to quit?! But he was one of the most capable—albeit difficult—Professors in the school! "Why?"

The War has taken its toll on him. He refuses to work for a school that supports a War like the one we have just experienced."

Hermione was perplexed by the logic, but knew that Severus Snape was a deeply wise man, and despite knowing that she would sound daft, she said, "But Headmaster, we don't—"

"He opposes the sorting system with the realization that…sorting pits the students against each other. This…extends to the adult life, and spawns those like Tom Riddle, who eventually became Voldemort."

"But…" Hermione tried to grasp for a way to argue back. But all of the points that Snape had relayed to the Headmaster were true. The Sorting encouraged rivalries between others, and true, those were the basis of the rise of Voldemort, among other things.

However, Hogwarts was unique because of its Sorting System. There was none other like it, just as there were no other schools of magic that held Hogwarts's history. It was this system that allowed her to meet Harry and Ron, respectively her best friend and the love of her life.

"There has got to be another way besides destroying the system. We simply need to enforce cooperation between the Houses. Wasn't that the last message from the Sorting hat?" She was referring, of course, to the song that the hat had sung during their sixth year at Hogwarts, before everything had begun to go awry and the school had to be closed for students.

"Indeed it was," Dumbledore agreed. "He offered this to support himself as well."

"But, Headmaster, you know as well as I that it is not the school that encourages such discrimination, but the world at large. Muggles hunt Witches and Wizards. In their turn, the magical population attacks those different from them. Werewolves, for example. Not to mention those under Voldemort's control. Professor Snape is a prime example of that." A short pause. "Hogwarts can encourage all the peace we would like, but there are certain things that children pick up from their parents that we cannot deter. Look at Draco Malfoy. He did not realize his father's fault until the War had already begun. All that Hogwarts can do as a learning facility is issue punishment for such outlandish behavior."

Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps, but I feel as though there should…be something more." He sighed again. "I thank you for your thoughts, Miss Granger. You are wise indeed; your thoughts run alongside my own. I have much to contemplate."

"No one," Hermione said sadly, "wants this school to cease. I met my closest friends here."

Dumbledore smile, his eyes sparkling above his half-moon spectacles. "I know, Hermione. I know."

**July 13, Thursday, Afternoon, 2000**

When Hermione entered Severus Snape's office in the dungeons, she found Draco sitting there, as well. Snape's mouth shut the moment she was visible, and he looked at her expectantly, as did Draco.

Without pausing, she asked in a frustrated tone, "Why did you try to resign from Hogwarts? Why did you tell Dumbledore that you would quit?"

Severus was nonchalant, as always. "If you are here, Miss Granger, then you are already well aware of my reasons."

"Oh," Draco groaned. "You know, too."

"Yes, I do," Hermione snapped. "How dare you, Severus, try to accuse Hogwarts of supporting those like Voldemort?"

"We do not support them," Severus corrected. "We make them. With the rivalries between Houses, we create those like Voldemort."

"You lie! There are more things to be considered than Hogwarts! We all now know of Tom Riddle's painful childhood—"

"As well as his uncomfortable stay at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts does not spawn monsters to the world!" Bellowed Hermione, tears building in her anger, "Life does! You should know that! Did Hogwarts make you join Voldemort? Did Hogwarts make Harry Voldemort's rival? No. Life and fate did those things. Was it because of Hogwarts that Draco opposed his father?"

"No," Draco answered for her. Severus's lip curled up into a snarl.

"See, Severus?"

"However," the Potions Master replied, "You cannot deny that the other Houses force Slytherins to fend for themselves. And that sort of debauchery is what influences others to not trust those raised in Slytherin. How would you like to grow up, Miss Granger, in a world where you knew that you would never have a decent chance at anything because you were sorted into Slytherin as a child?"

"The Sorting Hat," Hermione countered with Harpy-like fury, "does not decide who you are. We do, as people. And people change. The problem is those like you who blame the fallacies of magic on others. Harry was asked to join Slytherin by the hate when he was sorted. And what did he decide? To be a Gryffindor. And Ron! He was the first Gryffindor to become a Death Eater by choice."

Severus sniffed, "Peter Pettigrew was in Gryffindor."

"Well," Draco said cautiously, seemingly amused by this exchange between the Professor and former student, "Peter was more of a servant than a Death Eater—"

"Whatever!" Hermione interrupted. "Peter was scared into serving Voldemort! In any case, you cannot condemn one school for the work of a society. You should rethink your motives, Professor! Who are you protecting by leaving this school? No one. Infact, you should stay to prevent what you fear. The last message the Sorting Hat left us was to work together. That includes you."

After a pause, Severus said silently, "I appreciate your caring enough about my decision to come here and speak to me."

Draco smiled. "I guess we were thinking the same thing," he said, winking at Hermione.

For some odd reason, it did not occur to Hermione until that moment to think about Draco's reason for being present in the Potions Master's office. After realizing that her visit was redundant, she blushed, embarrassed at her lack of consideration.

Draco rose. "I suppose I should be going, then, as Hermione obviously proved my point far better than I could have." And with a nod to each of them, he exited, smiling the strangest smirk that Hermione noticed, just made Snape's lip curl up even further.

_**When forever ends**_

_**I'll gently be wrapped up in emptiness.**_

_**If I had the wings of a swallow**_

_**That disappears into the sky…**__--"Beautiful Alone"_


	12. Chapter 12

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Twelve:**** Lascivious Lycanthropy**

_**The moon still is not asleep,**_

_**Just like the time when I was with you.**_

_**Even though I cry out, there is no reply**_

_**From the blue bottom of the sky.**__—"Sora no Soko; The bottom of the Sky"_

**July 14, Friday, Afternoon, 2000**

Harry was attempting to run up his blood pressure now. Really. Three times the youth had visit the Headmaster; a day had passed since Hermione had argued about Severus leaving Hogwarts. And Draco was fuming, because Dumbledore had refused to reveal the information concerning their discussions. All that Dumbledore would say was, "I assure you, Harry's intentions are good," which meant nothing, considering that The Boy Who Lives was prone to screwing things up.

When Draco approached Harry , the reply was that it was "none of your business". Obtaining information had never been this infuriating.

He went to see Remus about it.

"Perhaps, Draco, you are overreacting," Remus said as he sat across from the younger, a cup of tea in his pale hands.

Draco pushed his cup away. "I don't like it. Every time in the past that Harry has been this inconspicuous, he's spawned a wretched chain reaction of events. I don't trust him with his own life."

Remus said softly. "Despite his horrible chains of events, he had managed to avoid you and your wrath almost his entire stay at Hogwarts, did he not?"

Draco was still fuming. "Yes," he said, "But I _do not trust him_!"

Draco, this is something you have no control over. Frankly, Draco—get over it."

The Slytherin sighed, defeated. "Ron is being visited by the multitudes," he said, switching to another subject. "Soon enough, the masses will be paying Hermione for taking care of him. His breathing is becoming stronger. Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore insist that he shall awake any day now, for his body is completely healed."

"Rejoice," Remus replied with a smile. "Unfortunately, things are not quite as well here."

"How many have they cursed?"

"Eleven, now."

"How many have been cured?"

"All but one. I am not allowed to reveal who, but…we are currently experimenting with the potent magics contained in Gregorian chant. It seems that they can heal mental illness extremely well. I was infuriated because everyone in the Ministry had neglected to tell me about the existing power. I am supposed to get reports about findings like these. Apparently, I was to receive an official letter about it from Arthur, but I never got it. He apologize profusely for it."

"Have you seen it in action?"

"A Gregorian chant? Yes, in part. You see, the words are merely a channel through which one can magnify their magics. For example, the _Kyrie_. Repeating _Kyrie eleison_ will double the effect of a currently stored magic, in a way that the strokes of your wand and movements cannot. With the Gregorian chant, our magic works better, and possesses more precision. I suspect that two wizards chanting at once would increase and fuse the two respective energies together."

"I pray it works," Draco joked with a grim smile.

"Very funny, Draco. I also have been asked a favor by Arthur…"

"For what?"

"He wanted my advice. He would like to begin a…division of law enforcement involving werewolves and animagus."

"For…?" Draco asked, then added, "He wants to use _animals_ to hunt down magical killers and lawbreakers?" The young Slytherin laughed. "Yes, Remus, let us wait until the full moon so that you can take Wolfsbane, transform, and catch the scent of Lucius Malfoy and his apprentice! Do you solve mysteries, too? Are you open during the usual hours?"

Remus sent him a reproachful look. "Arthur really wants a government position for werewolves and other mistreated creatures. He feels it would give them more value in Wizarding society. He's already moved all werewolf related offices to the Beings Division, something that we've been wanting for quite a while. I agree with his ideal. However, we are a race that have only been pitied since the beginning of the War—as Voldemort attempted to use magic to control us…"

Draco said slowly, "You all gained some respect during the 'Bloody Battle'…" Draco shivered.

**Flashback**

As the Order of the Phoenix grew in membership during the War, so three more werewolves—all friends of Remus—joined th cause. Not long afterwards, Dumbledore attached the idea of using the Grimmaud Place Dungeon as a holding ground for werewolves on the full moon. It was safe and secure, and it kept the werewolves on unplottable land. Sirius consented to the idea, muttering about hoping that they would "tear the place apart" so that he could go out more often. There was not enough Wolfsbane to go around, and only those who had found a way to have their prepared elsewhere before arriving had the advantage of a sane transformation. For the others, their holding cells were draped with reinforcement magics that Dumbledore himself set into place. He could not afford to lose anyone due to an outbreak of rabid werewolves.

Soon after he had joined the Order, Draco was on duty to monitor the dungeon, with the task of closing three doors with a secret word from Dumbledore in case somehow the werewolves were released from the cells.

Draco's post was beyond the dungeon, behind the three door—for safety reasons, obviously—but that night he had been curious, and he ventured forth into the dank, dark prison. It vaguely resembled the Malfoy family dungeon, and he wasn't surprised—not until he had seen the werewolves.

They were beautiful in the little moonlight that penetrated the room, almost as though some cruel person had hunted them and imprisoned the poor creatures. Draco felt sorry for them.

But that was before they caught his scent. After that moment of beauty, all hell broke loose. The wolves, all in their various colors and majesty—they raged themselves into a frenzy in the presence of fresh meat, all of the snapping violently, growling viciously and ferociously throwing themselves at the bars that held them captive.

That night, the Order had been low on supplies—they had just been replenished by Draco's arrival, and everything was disorganized—and so, Remus Lupin had _not_ taken his usual Wolfsbane dosage.

The sight of Remus was the most painful of all. Despite not having developed feelings for the Lycanthrope at that time, Draco had been the man's student, and because of the incident in his third year—like everyone else—had seen photos of Remus as a wolf. In his deepest of thoughts, Draco referred to that side of Remus as "the Hunter", as he seemed the mightiest wolf of the room.

Of course, there were a few in the room who had taken Wolfsbane—those were the wolves that, despite Draco's presence, slept in their cells—but they were outnumbered by far.

The hunger in the eyes of the wolves scared Draco to the core of his soul. He knew that if they were released for any reason, they would not hesitate to tear him to pieces, and perhaps even fight amongst themselves for which one got to eat him. It sacred him so that the Slytherin could only press himself further, deeper into the dungeons. He felt like he was being drawn in by something, though he couldn't tell what it was.

And then, there had been a hand on his shoulder. Draco jumped, brandishing his wand. When he turned, he found himself staring into eyes hidden behind half-moon spectacles. Dumbledore.

"Fenrir has found this place," he said quietly. "We are all evacuating."

Draco's eyes widened in utter surprise. All that he got in return was a look of pity from his old Headmaster, once he knew was directed at the wolves and not himself.

"No," Draco said defensively. "You cannot leave them here for him. You have to do something!"

Calmly, Dumbledore replied. "They are transformed. The lives of the Order, they all insisted, come first. We discussed this with them beforehand."

"You cannot leave these creatures here to die!" Draco screamed to be heard over the wolves baying. "I won't let you! Too many have died already!" That was the reason he had turned from his father in the first place. Was Dumbledore a monster in his own way? Sacrificing lives for the "greater good"?

As calmly as he had before, he grimaced. "Two of our own have already been killed. Draco, please trust me," and with that statement, his eyes sparkled.

And Draco decided to believe him.

"All material things have been relocated to Hogwarts," the Headmaster said. "Here is your broom," he continued, reaching behind his back to hand Draco the slender piece of wood. "The other members are awaiting you in the sky. Go quietly."

Draco received his broom from Dumbledore, mounted, and with precision, flew with haste to the entrance of the dungeon. He hesitated for a moment, looking back at Dumbledore who also made movement to the door, avoiding looking at the Malfoy.

"I apologize for using you this way," Dumbledore said into the chamber, as though someone who could comprehend him was there. Then, a single whispered word echoed from his parted lips—and the world seemed to stand still.

When the moment passed, and nothing happened, Draco sighed. But whether it was a happy sigh or from relief, he couldn't say. Then Dumbledore shouted, in the scariest voice he had even heard from the Headmaster, "FLY DRACO! NOW!" and apparated from the dungeon himself. That could only mean one thing—the unplottable spell had indeed been broken. Instinctively, Draco rose about nine feet, suspended in the air.

What he saw next made his broom jump up another ten feet, until he was almost touching the ceiling.

_Thank the Gods_, he thought. _Thank you._

Dumbledore had let the wolves loose.

They ran frantically, as a pack hunting for flesh. They ripped the room a part, and devoured all the furniture. Several jumped while running in an attempt to bite Draco himself; they could not, and after a few tries, travel into the other parts of the house.

Draco did not know whether he should follow them or automatically go in the other direction. He had only just arrived at Grimmaud Place; he wasn't too familiar with the layout of the home.

As he watched the surge of wolves below him, he wondered, _Is Dumbledore Mad? What is he doing?_

Soon enough Draco, while remaining as high in the air as he could on his broom, followed behind the path that the wolves left. They were destroyed. There were claw and teeth marks on everything, as though the wolves had tasted every item in the room to check if they were edible. He could hear the scratching of claws and the howling of wolves ahead, and he hoped that they would at least lead him to an entrance.

But he couldn't leave. As he approached the familiar entrance—which seemed to him to be the only familiar thing in the house now that he wanted to get out of it—Fenrir and his entourage of Death Eaters were at the door…

Being torn apart by the wolves.

Draco recognized Fenrir's wolf form—it was larger than the usual wolf, and ragged. He had seen Fenrir released on nights of the Full Moon during battles with Voldemort's ranks—he was more of monster than any of the wolves ripping apart his compatriots. There had been at least ten Death Eaters from what Draco could see, and despite being a wolf, Fenrir was the leader—he had probably taken some Wolfsbane. The Death Eaters screamed, some of them trying to run. But there was no running from a Manor full of wolves—none whatsoever—and they all died 

amongst their own screams and cartilage and blood. Those were screams and sights that would stay with Draco and haunt him for life…

That night, Draco watched as Fenrir's companions were mutilated—even in death—and devoured by the hungry wolves all seeking blood. Even Fenrir himself seemed to lose control of himself for a moment, actually partaking in the meal that his fallen escorts provided. It was a sickening sight.

However, that only lasted a few moments. The wolves that had been sleeping in the cages when Draco had seen them—those that had taken Wolfsbane themselves—stepped forward, and the other wolves seemed to make way for them, forming a circle like shape. Were they going to fight? That's what it looked like to Draco. Four of the wolves seemed to recognize Fenrir for who he was, and it was apparent that they were planning something violent. Even the Hunter, despite not being Remus in full conscious, seemed to know that Fenrir was the one who had created him.

The large pack—which numbered almost thirty—backed away a bit further from the approaching wolf-on-wolf fight, dragging their spoils from the battle to the side and licking their fur free of blood.

Fenrir fought back, of course, but even Draco knew that he couldn't win. He was outnumbered now, without his Death Eaters to throw spells and hexes. And when the Hunter set his eyes upon Fenrir, the latter froze. The Hunter stalked Fenrir, as though he had finally decided that it was time for him to die along with his friends, and all the wolves that had managed to keep themselves sane using Wolfsbane watched in silence as the Hunter and Fenrir faced off.

Draco didn't understand how Remus could turn into something so powerful, so commanding—and not know it. If only Remus knew what he became under the light of the full moon. It was something far different from the rest of the other wolves. The Hunter was a leader—wise and observant, like a hawk—and Remus had no idea that this other personality lurked inside of him. Even when taking Wolfsbane, he kept his own consciousness and not the wolf's. Draco had admiration for Remus's alter-ego. How could it be considered a monster at all?

The fight was over in a moment, the Hunter's claws unrelenting as he easily held Fenrir beneath him and ripped out the once threatening wolf's jugular. Fenrir had been helpless under the Hunter's presence, and Draco's jaw had dropped in disbelief.

After that, Draco had made sure to sit upon his broom until sunrise—which was a few hours from when Dumbledore had released the wolves in the first place—so that the werewolves would be turned back into normal and he could explain what had happened to the other Order members when they returned for damage control. It dawned on Draco, while he was waiting, 

that despite being gentle and calm, Dumbledore was a brilliant tactician. It was revealed later that the word the Headmaster spoke did not one but two things: dissolved the charms on the cells of the werewolves, and reinforced charms on the doors and windows so that Fenrir and his group could not escape—not that they even had the time to think of such a thing.

Remus, afterward, had been furious when he had heard about Draco's foolish decision to stay that close to the wolves instead of seeking a way out.

**Flashback End**

It had been that memory that flashed through Draco's mind when he had seen the Wolfsbane Potion on Harry's wall the other evening.

It was that memory that prompted his jealous of Luna, for she had been one of those who did not escape the house in time. She had been presumed dead by Dumbledore. However, when she managed to awake she had instead of dying gained a familiarity with Remus that Draco could not reach. Draco sighed. It was the emotions that accompanied the memories that were bothersome.

Remus was saying something, but Draco hadn't been listening, too caught up in his own memories to care. Suddenly, with a childlike outburst, Draco asked, "Remus. I want you to help me become an animagus!"

Remus was so surprised he forgot that he was being interrupted. "What? Why?"

"I've been thinking about it for a long time," Draco replied. "Will you help me?"

With a sigh, Remus laughed. "Of course I will. Who knows? You can help me and Luna company when we take Wolfsbane. That's what my friends used to do…"

Draco grinned, the memory of the Hunter lurking in his mind. "I would like that."

_**A memory which goes away.**_

_**A memory we have shared.**_

_**Like a falling star,**_

_**Fades away in the morning sun.**_

_**Wanting to tell you "Farewell",**_

_**I remained silent.**—"Tomorrow"_

Thank you all for bearing with me as I get thorugh the chapters of this story. There's lots more to come, so sit tight...


	13. Chapter 13

I want to remind everyone reading that Harry Potter isn't my own series! It belongs to J.K. Rowling. And the Lyrics that you see in bold italics belong to the creators of the anime Weiss Kreuz White Cross. Nothing belongs to me except the concept of this alternate plot line.

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Thirteen:** Living

_**I just keep waiting for someone to love…**__--"Kiss me, Kiss me, Kill me"_

**July 14, Friday, Night, 2000**

Why did it always come to this? Why did it always come to him—The Potions Master—sitting by the fireplace with wine in his glass and his thoughts roaming? Somewhere, the cycle had to send. Somewhere, the brooding had to end. The War had to end, the strife had to end, the pain had to—

There he was, brooding again. He rose, moving to the kitchen portion of his chambers, turning his head away as he poured the full glass down the sink. He had never, in his history of residing at Hogwarts, even thrown out his wine. It almost hurt him physically carry out the task.

After magicking his glass away, he straightened out his robes and headed towards the door.

Now was a time for change, he'd realized; times were changing, and to remain the same would do nothing but remind the masses of the one thing they hated. The great evil they had just defeated in the War. Those like Voldemort and Lucius, whose radical views were supported by few but forced upon all; that approach of spreading a set of ideas, or anything like it, now suggested trouble to come. And now, after losing the lives of family members, friends, and mentors, the masses were finally tuned to catch such trouble and not tolerate it.

Yes, Severus would have to change. Brooding was for a time when one had no impact upon the outcome of an approaching event.

But the War was over—physically, at least, for the emotional war was still raging--and Severus, now free of the bonds once issued by Voldemort, could support the reconstruction of a world where most _attempted_ to make intelligent choices; a world where one was not judged by his differences to the masses, a world that encouraged the outreach to the lives that comprised it.

_I have never,_ Severus though to himself,_ thought of such foolishness, such idiotic, idealistic drivel!_

However, he stopped himself from criticizing his thoughts further.

As he strode into the hall, his mind set itself on visiting Harry. It was out of the ordinary, and considering what had happened between them in their previous encounter almost two days ago, there was no wonder as to why he hadn't seen Harry to sort this out sooner.

No, Severus Snape was still not ready to rediscover _that_ part of himself. There were some corridors of the mind that were not to be reopened. He knew without a doubt that he would have to sit down one last time with his glass of wine and _think_—travel down his corridor of thought once more and open the door at the end to analyze the nature of his relationship with The Boy Who Lived—but he was not going to do it now.

He hesitated when he reached the door to Harry's chambers. Some part of it still seemed twisted to him, simply knocking on the door of a man whose last physical action had been—

_Back to brooding?_ He chided himself. Taking a breath, he steeled his feelings and just knocked on the door.

However, he allowed himself to crack the door open a bit; to reflect on how he did not used to be this guarded. There had once been a time when he would have been utterly amazed that anyone would spend time and effort to be involved with him. That was the way that it had been with Lucius.

And that was where Severus closed the proverbial door and tuned out his own internal ramblings.

Simultaneously, as though to show him the irony of fate, Harry's bedroom door opened and Severus restrained himself; he had been caught off guard--something he would not allow anyone to realize in any situation.

Harry looked surprised to see the Professor standing at his door, just as Severus knew that he would be. Obviously, as the Potions Masters could easily read from the boy's face, Harry had resigned himself to their situation, and had left the outcome in Severus's own two hands.

_He wasn't expecting to see me any time soon._

"Hello Severus," he said slowly. "Did you need something?"

The delight of seeing Harry's reaction flashed through his eyes as he said, without skipping a beat, "Yes. I am here to ask—in all honesty—if I can sleep with you tonight."

The question's effect was instantaneous; Harry's face paled as he struggled to recover, to actually reply to the request.

Then slowly, as though he realized that Severus had been baiting him, he asked in a hushed whisper, "Why? What happened?"

To confirm Harry's suspicious, the reply was, "Nothing. However, I require a change of atmosphere."

Harry released a sigh that told Severus that the two had just avoided an extremely awkward moment. The Boy Who Lived stood side, his decidedly blue choice of robes billowing as he did so. As Severus passed the youth, he smirked directly at Potter's face.

Immediately, Harry was cross. "You_ enjoyed_ that, didn't you?" he asked loudly, closing the door behind him.

Severus ignored him, attempting to deny those charges. He had been in this room before, with Draco, and had seen the small, corner locked bed. He tutted.

"That will most_ certainly_ not do," he said, looking at the bed, which was of meager size and shaking his head. Removing his wand from his robes, and adjusting the bed to the size he believed was proper and magically changing the sheets. "You should have done this long before, Harry. How do you sleep comfortably? There's nothing in here—much like in that head of yours—to obstruct it." And it was indeed true. Aside from the shelves on the walls and Hedwig's cage in the window, the room was bare—even the suitcase which most likely held Harry's other things seemed to blur into nothing. He felt like asking: why is there nothing here?

Instead, he settled for lying down on the bed.

"So that's it?" Harry asked. "You're just going to barge into my room after asking to _sleep_ with me, enlarge my bed whilst insulting me, and actually go to bed without speaking to me?"

"Indeed, Harry," Severus said sarcastically, "you have come far. There was once a time when I doubt that you would have remembered half of those events, much less list them in chronological order."

"Do you _want_ to be here?" Harry snapped. "You can leave."

Seriously, Severus said, "There are some times, Harry, when one wishes to stop living their nightmares."

Harry fell silent, as though in deep though. Severus contemplating whether he should take the opportunity to further tease his former student, but decided against it.

Slowly, tentatively, Harry asked, "Are you sure you're all right, Severus?"

"Quite."

Harry eyes seemed to scan the bed and Severus with it, as though he was trying to divine whether the Potions Master spoke the truth.

"I decided," Severus added, "not to brood tonight."

It was at this point that Harry smiled. "Good. It's nice to get some fresh air every once in a while, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

After a pause, Harry removed his robes, revealing some muggle clothing--a T-shirt and something Severus had once overheard Hermione Granger call jeans.

"Scoot over," Harry said as he slid into the bed as well.

"Why?"

"You know why. It's the middle of the night. I'm tired."

Severus, while magicking away his robes with a wordless spell, obliged the Gryffindor. _Why__** are**__ you up—and distressed—at this hour, Harry? Doing some brooding yourself?_

The bed was large enough to give each man his own territory, and for that Severus was glad; he was not a romantic, and he hated the violation of his personal space.

He snapped in his mind, _Just sleep. You are behaving like a child!_

And so, with a mind full of doubts and questions, Severus Snape fell to slumber in the bed of The Boy Who Lived.

**July 15, Saturday, Morning, 2000**

When the Potions Master awoke, he was nearly blinded by a fierce light in his face. He bolted upright before he could think about his surroundings.

"Oh, good, you're awake," came a small, quiet voice from a corner of the room. It was Harry's voice, as he sat by a small table, reading the daily prophet. The newspaper had been given new management by Arthur Weasley, and was now devoted to printing newsworthy stories. Needless to say that Rita Skeeter was working for another, smaller publication.

"What time is it?" Severus asked. "Why did I only awake now?" Never, in Severus's entire life, had he overslept, except in instances where the rest was magically induced. "What did you do?"

Harry blushed. "Ah. So you noticed. I knew you wake up really early—"

"Five o'clock," Severus said heatedly. "I wake up at five o'clock every morning. What did you do?"

"After you went to sleep, I cast a spell that lengthened your it for you."

"You had no right to do that to me. None whatsoever."

"I—I'm sorry, Severus. I—I just thought…that you needed it. Because…"

Severus sighed. Truth of the matter was that he did need it. That was one of the problems with brooding—he would never allow himself to get any real sleep.

"_You need it."_

The words, his own, whispered through the corridors of Severus's mind as he oriented himself enough to rise, summon his robes, and seat himself on the edge of the bed on which he had just slept.

Running his hands through his dark hair, he remembered the moment at which he had decided to help Harry; was that when the tables had turned?

"Harry…" he said slowly.

"You're angry, aren't you? It wasn't the best way to go about it—putting you to sleep—but given the options—"

"Thank you."

There was a pause during which Harry seemed to be speechless; but soon, the youth decided that there was no need for words.

Suddenly, it occurred to the Potions Master, like a nagging in the back of his mind that Harry did not normally concern himself with the Daily Prophet.

"Something caught your eye, Harry?" Severus asked.

Realizing he meant the paper, Harry shook his head. "No--Just thought I would keep up with the Wizarding world for once in my life." But even as he said this, Harry's eyes held a look of concentration. He was not simply skimming the page.

_Harry…_ Severus thought to himself, _What are you planning?_ There was a detail, something that he had forgotten to take into account.

"Anything interesting?" he inquired lightly, making sure to keep the suspicion from his voice.

"Of course there is. What do you expect, now that Luna's father writes editorials for the Daily Prophet?"

"What has he written about today? Has some other non-existent species of animal caught his attention?" Severus laughed. However, mentally he was ready to analyze every syllable of Harry's reply.

"He wrote a good article today, actually, about how the society that survived the War should inspire the rights they fought for in their children. He also thinks Arthur Weasley is an excellent man of value, and will probably support his opinion about the Wizarding world. Knowing Mister Weasley, he probably will—"

Without another word, Severus rose abruptly, and said, "I'm going to my own chambers now…"

Harry laid down his paper. "What?"

"I said I was leaving."

"I heard you," Harry snapped. Then, he said, more calmly, "I hate having nothing to do. I can't wait until school starts this fall."

Severus decided not to tell Harry about his resignation. Despite Granger's grumbling about it, his conscience told him to stand by his position.

_You are not _quitting, he told himself. _You are _setting conditions_ on your agreement to be employed._

Harry looked as though he wanted to stop Severus from leaving, but he said nothing, his eyes flickering back to the paper. The first thing Severus would do, after re-dressing and fully preparing himself for the day, would be to buy a copy of _The Daily Prophet_. He did not know what Harry was planning, but…

With one last glance at Harry, he decided that the Boy Who Lived had been through enough. He would not allow Harry to become like him, alone and desolate, awkward at the very least requirement for genuine human contact.

He would go see Dumbledore once more.

_**Flowers all become, flowers all became**_

_**Withered up and dry, something still remains**_

_**Thusly so, two lovers have left without a word exchanged.**__—"Mellow Candle"_

* * *

I know that I haven't had to chance to update very much on this story, but I assure you that I haven't given up on it--in fact, I have up to chapter fifty something now, but the thing is that I manage my own forum RPG, and it takes up a lot of time. So I'm updating, slowly but surely.

I have a beta reader now! So I hope that I'm going to get rid of a lot of the grammar problems


	14. Chapter 14

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Fourteen:** Lost Souls

_**Anywhere you continue to go**_

_**Lights & Shadows will draw pictures of death**_

_**The world's painting appears before my eyes.**_

_**Are you puzzled?**_

_**I can't see the things, colors**_

_**The beginning of sadness**_

_**While gods and demons dance over my ego.**_

_**My anger is constant.**_

_**Lights & Shadows are manipulating me!**__—"Shadows & Lights"_

**July 15, Saturday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

From the moment Severus had knocked upon his door, Harry had been holding himself in restraint. It was a miracle how he had managed to use his feelings of anger to distract himself from assaulting the older man. How he had overcome the obstacle of sleeping next to the man for which his every muscle quaked was another matter entirely.

The only thoughts to distract himself from his former Professor were serious ones, ones he would forever indebted to. Harry knew that, to some degree, Severus was catching on; the man was too suspicious of everything.

Yes, Harry was planning. He would not stand idly by while the world around him—attempting to heal itself—was brought to tears once _again_ by Lucius Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Even better, he and Blaise had a personal score to settle: Ron. Alive or not, what Blaise had done to Ron was unforgivable, and Harry would not be so foolish as to promise himself that he would not just kill the bastard on sight. They had not pinpointed the Death Eaters' location yet, but when they were found…

Of course, there was also a part of Harry that was afraid of his own anger. He had already killed nine Death Eaters—and the memories of the last three still eluded him—was he willing to add two more to the list?



Logically, one would cast the burden of the task onto Draco, since he was intimately involved with both the boy and the man. But Harry would never ask him to do such a thing. Even Harry, the Boy Who Lived, had never had to kill a parent or a lover, and he would not impose or suggest the same to another human being.

Then there was Severus. He was one of the most competent wizards of the age, the only one who could possibly match Lucius claw for claw, tooth for tooth—and throw Blaise to the side like a callow babe. However, he too had connections to Lucius.

And so, this task fell to Harry. For a moment, he considered Dumbledore—but the man was far too valuable to be considered for this. And if Hogwarts was to pen that coming fall, the two evil-doers must be found quickly. It was mid-July already, and those once injured were leaving Hogwarts in droves. There was no other excuse for the school not to open.

Two years that could have been devoted to magical education had been lost. The ripple effects of the War had to be stopped.

Of course, when Harry had been reading the news, it was to check on any progress. He already knew Severus would not approve of his concern for Malfoy and Zabini. In fact, several people had told Harry to "let the Ministry take care of those vagabonds". But they were not simple followers of Voldemort,; they were the two _potentially_ most deadly of the lot. Because of this, Harry was preparing himself. He was no longer naïve, and it was high time for him to put his own life on the line instead of using others. When the time came, he would kille both of them himself.

Until then, he was preparing. He would not allow himself to be caught unawares by the severity of Lucius's and Blaise's hate. He would have a plan. Twice already he had gone to see Mad Eye Moody to brush up on his dueling skills. Harry wasn't all too bad; he still needed to build his defence to unspoken hexes and jinxes. Unfortunately, the best person to aid him in that regard was Severus, and the Gryffindor was not about to attempt asking about that.

He had gone to see Dumbledore instead. He waited well after Severus had left his chambers to do so.

"You want me to teach you to defend against Occulmency?" The Headmaster asked.

"Yes. I've heard from Malfoy about his father and Blaise's new spells…"

"Ah, yes," the look in Dumbledore's eyes was grave. "I, too, am worried about that. Their magic is pretty potent, I must admit. I, along with Remus Lupin, have treated their victims. I am sorry to say there is still one who is uncured."

"Can you help me?"

A pause. "I am not sure. You already have some resistance. But I do not think Occulmency will help you. You must be able to face your mental demons. That is the only way to avoid their spell. It is almost utterly impossible. You must be at rest with your entire past. You must have no regrets, no issues, with your actions or the reactions they caused. You must reconcile with yourself, for their magic is not full of Occulumency; it is full of their victims own doubts, fears and memories. That is why I say it is impossible. Everyone has their regrets about life. Even myself. There are some decisions one can never take back. And so. Alas, I cannot help you. Perhaps, if you would speak to Severus Snape, he could aid you. It is no secret that he had had to combat more than his share of self-made demons."

Sheepishly, Harry replied, "I-I can't. I realize that this may sound petty, but I would rather not involve him right now."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in a way that sent a shiver up Harry's spine. At the mercy of The Headmaster's full on gaze, he felt raw and scrutinized; as though the elder knew all of his secrets and had heard every whispered conversation he had ever held, even with himself. It had gained his respect for Dumbledore. Now, however, it scared him.

"So," Dumbledore said, peering over his half-moon lenses, "What you are asking is for me to neglect to inform Severus of his conversation."

"Please," Harry said politely.

"I give you my word, Harry."

The Boy Who Lived sighed. He tried his best to avoid the all-knowing look in the older man's eyes, because he did not want to believe that Dumbledore knew anything. Slowly, he rose, struggling to pick up the pieces of the former confidence of concealing his secret training. "Thank you, Headmaster," he said, and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Harry," Dumbledore said suddenly.

Harry whipped around.

"I realize what Lucius and Blaise are to you…but please, do be careful. This is a dangerous task that you are undertaking. I advise you to be utterly prepared."

"Yes, Headmaster."

**July 15, Saturday, NIGHT, 2000**

His next stop was Lupin's office. He would need to know what type of spells they were likely to use, and what spells would undo the damage.

As he entered the werewolf's office, he froze.

There was Draco, sitting across from Lupin, a book in his hands that he was studying intentionally. At first the Slytherin didn't even notice The Boy Who Lived's arrival; Remus spoke to him first.

"Why hello Harry," the wolf said, a smile across his lips.

Harry replied, "Hi," and his mid raced as he watched the pair.

Lupin and Draco, they were parallel to himself and Severus as a couple without quite so many issues. Harry had seen them together before; they were close, affectionate, even. And Draco visited their former Professor or almost every day.

_I wonder if Severus and I will ever be this way…? _the thought escape Harry's mind unchecked and unbidden. It was a pure thought, one without common sense or reality to weigh it down, and Harry answered the self-imposed question. _No. We are too scarred to ever be like the two of them…_

Remus was the loving type, in any case; Harry believed Draco deserved him, after what Blaise had put him through. From what Harry had heard, Blaise following Voldemort had wounded Draco deeply.

"I wanted to ask you something," Harry continued.

"Sure," Remus offered, waving his wand to summon a chair. Harry sat down in it. "What is it that you need?"

Draco's eyes flashed briefly, and even with his nose in a book Harry did not want to trust him. The Gryffindor chose his words carefully. "Draco told me that Lucius and Blaise—" he felt, more than saw, Draco's wince and Remus's frown, "—are making new spells to stop people from being able to resist Imperius…"

Remus cleared his throat. "Yes…"

"I want to be prepared in the case that they strike massively. Dumbledore agrees, but he told me to see you, because his verdict is that it will be nearly impossible for anyone who survived the War to resist their spell…"

"He is absolutely right," the werewolf replied.

"And so," Harry said thoughtfully, "I…want you to teach me how to cure the victims with _Legimens_."

Remus seemed to choke on air; Draco looked up from his book, and he said loudly, "Have you gone mad?" he rose abruptly form his seat. "Do you know how many medi-wizards and witches have had to be freed from the minds of their own patients? This is dangerous, Harry. It isn't a game."

The Boy Who Lived completely ignored him. Addressing his former Professor, he asked again. "Will you teach me? Whenever they are found, I want to be prepared. What if a comrade falls victim? There should not be hundreds of victims and ten healers. I have a right to learn."

Remus sighed. "I knew that eventually you would want to know how it works. Come. There is a victim not yet cured. I will show you."

Draco paled, and said, "Remus, you can't!"

Remus replied calmly. "He is The Boy Who Lived, Draco. Eventually the masses will expect him to do something. He must be prepared for actions he may be forced to take. I will not desert the son of my best friend to find his way alone; I would do the same for you, were it necessary."

Draco slowly took his seat, shaking his head and looking dumbfounded. "Be careful, Harry," was all that he said.

"Thank you," Harry replied.

Harry braced himself as Remus walked past his desk and made his way out of his office. He had no idea what to expect, but he would try his best to overcome whatever this task entailed.

"Come," Remus said, gravely.

Harry followed him, through the crowded doors of the Ministry, to a small white room connected to a larger room. The larger room, Harry could hear, was swarming with other witches and wizards. They all seemed reluctant to look at either Harry or Remus, and those who did soon turned away afterward, as though they were afraid.

There was a single, solitary figure in the corner of the room. The scene reminded Harry of a muggle in an insane asylum.

"Do you recognize him yet?" Lupin asked sadly. "I almost cried…" A pause. "Go ahead. He cannot hurt you…"

Cautiously, Harry stepped toward that figure, who was sitting, unmoving, in the corner.

Remus continued to speak. "He cannot see or hear anything in this reality. His mind is no longer here. He was brought in five days ago. I had just seen him earlier that day, and while he had said some strange things, I did not think that he would be foolish enough to—"

"No," Harry said, stopping in the middle of the room when he recognized the man in the corner. "No. NO!!"" he screamed, and his words echoed harmlessly through the room. Harry spun on his heel to face Remus. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't anyone tell me!?"

"We are only allowed to release the names of those who have been cured, so that the Wizarding World doesn't break into panic. He's the only one not cured."

"You could have told ME!! Why didn't you—"

"Harry," Remus said sternly. "Get a hold of yourself. You will not be able to help him like this."

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair and blinking back tears. Remus was right. He would have to hold himself together if he wanted to do any good. He would have to keep himself in check if he wanted to help his godfather.

Harry turned, and stared into the blank eyes of Sirius Black.

_**As the angel stood and laughed,**_

_**I was betrayed by stinging tears.**_

_**Rage overwhelmed me and I screamed, drawing my blade to venge them all**_

_**And a song was echoing, my destiny's refrain**_

_**Song of the wand'rer's lonely soul, song of the sinners to redeem.**__—"Piece of Heaven"_


	15. Chapter 15

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Fifteen:**Three's Company

_**A thrown away memory**_

_**A memory which doesn't arrive**_

_**The date is like a strange ticket**_

_**Once more the story doesn't say anything**__—"Tomorrow"_

**July 15, Monday, MORNING, 2000**

Ron was doing better day by day. His heartbeat had returned to normal, his breathing was stronger, and his body temperature had returned to that of the living.

The only question left was why he hadn't woken up yet.

Molly Weasley visited him every day now, and Hermione skills were no longer needed as a result; she was not going to take away a mother's right care for her son. So, the Gryffindor took the opportunity to search for Harry for she had not seen her friend for a few days, and she was worried. Draco had not been around much, either. What were they doing?

As Hermione passed through the corridors of Hogwarts, she reminisced about their mini-adventures during their school years. She could not wait until Hogwarts was open again, until things seemed more normal—even the Great Hall had begun to empty, with healed patients glad to return to the Wizarding world.

Hermione realized, after a moment or two that she was unconsciously heading in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. She stopped herself, and thought,_ Where would Harry and Draco be?_

"They are not here," came a small voice from behind her. She spun around to meet the sound; it was Severus Snape, who was looking rather perplexed.

"I have searched this entire space," Severus said angrily, "for both of those infernal brats. They are not to be found anywhere in this building. I have just come from inquiring of Dumbledore as to their whereabouts."

"What…did he say?" Hermione asked. It had to be something serious if Snape had to ask Dumbledore to figure out where they were.

"That three days ago, Harry came to the Headmaster's office. That was the last time he had been seen."

"What—"

"Dumbledore will not tell me their topic of discussion. However, he did reveal that Harry went to see Remus Lupin, where I assume Draco is as well."

"Why would Harry go to see Remus for such a long time?"

"I do not know. But I intend to find out." The Potions Master paused. "All channels to Lupin's Office through Floo powder are locked. He must not want anyone to discover them. Come, Granger. We will go back to Dumbledore and ask for the usage of his fireplace. It is the only one I know will work."

Hermione had never seen Severus Snape so…upset, so bothered, so…_worried_. As far as Hermione knew, Snape had no special connection to either wizard, with the exception of having all been (herself included) part of the coup d'etat staged to defeat Voldemort.

She shook her head; it was none of her business anyhow.

When they made their way to Dumbledore's Office (the password this time was "sour gum"), the Headmaster was there, and he held up a hand as though he had known they were coming. His eyes were frantically scanning a page of parchment.

He looked up at them after several moments, his face quite pale. Wordlessly, he handed the parchment to Severus for the both of them to read.

It said the following:

_**EMERGENCY UPDATE OF THE DAILY PROPHET!**_

_Late last night, it was revealed by the Ministry of Magic that there has been yet another victim of Lucius Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. This new victim is the formerly incarcerated Sirius Black—_

Hermione gasped. Sirius had been attacked?

She looked up, Dumbledore signaled that they should continued reading.

_Sirius Black—by confirmation of facts by the Minister of Magic himself, Arthur Weasley—had been sent with a group of wizards to subdue a break out at Azkaban. Allegedly, the Dementors were bypassed by Lucius Malfoy, who had transformed himself into an animal—confirmed by the suriving guards to be a white cat—bringing the prisoner its wand. The prisoner also transfigured itself into an animal and escaped. They were followed by guards and they were led out into the open, where they were intercepted by Black and his supporting party. Blaise Zabini distracted the Dementors patrolling outside with—regrettably—a muggle child, and targeted _

_the entire group with a strange curse before escaping with the two animals. All victims fell unconscious until healed by Remus Lupin, as has previously been reported by this medium. We inquired as to the health of the child used as bait, and we were told that she had all but been given the Dementor's kiss, and that her parents have been notified somewhat of her inquiry (since they are muggles, they were told that she had been rendered unconscious while playing with some friends at a park near her house), and they have been entrusted us with her care._

_As for Blaise Zabini, Malfoy, and the freed prisoner, all three managed to escape the premises. Pursuing guards chose to call for assistance in healing the victims rather than give chase to the outlaws. The Minister commends them for this course of action and warns, "Anyone who comes into contact with any of them the escapees should attempt to escape or call for help. The fall alert has been raised because of this attack. Wizards and Witches, however, are not confined to their homes, for we believe this will lead Malfoy or Zabini to hunt wizards down individually. We are trailing behind their clues, and the public will be notified if they are found…" The Minister continues, however, to say that those whose participated directly with the War and with Voldemort's death to be the most vigilant, and avoid leaving homes or establishments if possible. When we asked to speak with Remus Lupin about details of the curse used by Zabini, the Minister politely declined, declaring him unavailable, and still aiding with the after-effects of Sirius Black's recovery._

Where she looked up, there was a relieved, but still worried looked in Snape's eyes, one that was mirrored in the Headmaster's expression.

"You knew everything," Severus Snape said to Dumbledore, "didn't you?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I did not realize that Harry's location was with Remus until I read this article. I also did not know that Sirius was the final uncured victim. I assume, Severus and Hermione, that you would like to use my fireplace to—"

The doors behind him opened abruptly, and Minerva McGonagall, former Head of Gryffindor House, stormed in, holding the same article they had just read. "Albus!" she said loudly, then hushed, realizing that the Headmaster had guests. "Is that true?"

"A moment, Minerva," Dumbledore said, and continued to address his primary visitors. "In a moment, my channel will be packed with those asking me for details. I grant you its usage. Go, quickly."

**July 17, Monday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

"Headmaster—" came the voice of Draco Malfoy as Severus and Hermione stepped out of the fireplace on Remus Lupin's end. "Oh. It's you."

"Where's Harry?" both Snape and Hermione asked at once.

"I suppose you both realized his tendency of putting his life in danger. That three of them are behind me."

Indeed, they were. Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, and Sirius Black—all looking disheveled, distraught, and trouble—were sleeping, sprawled on the floor is discomfort, sweat on the brow of all three wizards.

"Harry tried _Legimens_ on Sirius when he heard about him—Remus hadn't even told me. They cast the spell together. I thought they had been lost, trying to lead Sirius back. I tried to help," Draco sighed, "by bringing in Luna to sing…"

"Sing _what_?" Severus snapped. "What the hell does singing have to do with spellcasting?"

Hermione thought that Snape seemed like he was going to blow his top. She couldn't understand what could possibly make him so angry…

"Keep it down," Draco sneered, as nasty as Snape had been in his speech. "Remus discovered that chanting old Catholic prayers aid and boosts magic quality in spells. They can do a number of things, depending on the singer, or singers' intentions. I used Luna, the only person that Remus has taught the strongest chant to so far. It brought them out, but they were exhausted, and apparently, they saw some pretty gruesome stuff, because they wouldn't speak to me or themselves. Sirius is the only one who said anything at all."

"What did he say?" the pair chimed together. It was becoming more than just strange to Hermione; were she and Severus's feelings for this situation more alike than she thought?

"He said, 'Rest…in peace' and fainted. After reaching this room, the other did the same. Luna went to her own room to wait until they woke up. She said she would alert Arthur that Sirius was cured. That have lain there, right there, for almost two. I used a medi-scans spell to check their vitals and mental. They are not under curse."

Hermione heard Snape sigh in relief.

"However," Draco resumed, "I put them in a healing sleep some while ago; all three of them, their magical energy's been tapped out."

"That is what _Legimens_ does," Severus commented. "Well," he said, magicking a chair from midair, "I will wait until they awake."

Hermione was surprised at his resolved. Did one of them have something he wanted? "I will, too; I'll check for progress every once and a while, Draco. You should go back to Hogwarts and sleep, since you've been up all this time…"

"I'll stay," Draco said, firmly, but gently, "because I will not leave him alone." Obviously he meant Remus, and Hermione smiled as Draco settled into the werewolf's chair at his desk. It was rather…cute, if such a word could be applied to a Slytherin.

Briefly, Hermione thought of Ron's healing sleep. Ron was up to par; everything was normal, but he still wouldn't wake up. Would the same thing happen to Harry?

_No,_ she willed, _ I won't let it._

She would not let the same thing happen to Harry. She would not. She ran her hand through her hair, it was going to be a long day.

_**Red and blue flowers**_

_**The colors of truth**_

_**Waiting under the rubble**__—"Double Dear" _

* * *

Author's notes: As always, the song lyrics are from the songs from _Weiss Kreuz_.


	16. Chapter 16

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Sixteen:** Freedom from Bonds Unseen (Madness)

_**When you turn**_

_**The side of your face away**_

_**I will not be able to **_

_**Reach anymore, break it**_

_**Disappear, cut the life line**_

_**The despair of being useless**__—"Double Dear"_

**July 17, Monday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

Draco was there for Harry's recovery and it wasn't pretty. Severus Snape was extremely angry, and every ounce of it was aimed at The Boy Who Lived.

As Harry rose--an hour after Snape and Hermione's arrival by Floo—his first waking moments were spent looking at the angry expression on Severus's face, which seemed to be too much for him, and he turned over and away from the visitors.

The younger Slytherin, however, was not upset in the least; he had checked himself to see to it that all three wizards were fine, and was proud of his handiwork. He had panicked, though in the beginning; using _Legimens_, Lupin had once told him, sometimes took hours, especially if the patients had memories of the War. And Sirius Black certainly had his share of them. Truth be told, Draco had acted prematurely—and that was why he would never stay around to watch Remus work again. The pair could've very well been fine, for all that he knew.

When Remus awoke, Draco's first words in spite of his own rash actions were, "Don't ever do that to me again!" And he leapt upon the former Professor with a fervor that knocked him back down again. With reckless abandon, Draco kissed the older man repeatedly, whispering "I love you," between every few rounds. Remus received this kindly as always, and whispered back, "Hush; I'm alright. I'm here_,_" to which Draco heard Hermione say, "Aww…"

Then, eventually, came Sirius's voice, "_Ugh._ Not first thing in the morning. Remus, can you tell the puppy to sit, please?"

Without hesitation, Draco bolted upright, and promptly slapped Sirius's right cheek. "This was your fault." He said in a calm voice—a surprisingly calm voice that seemed to take everyone by surprise, even Severus by the look of it. "If you hadn't been so utterly stupid—"

"_Hush,_" Remus said, pulling Draco into a close hug that rendered him speechless.

Even while enraptured in Remus's embrace, Draco could see that Severus was still wordlessly glaring at Harry from across the room.

Wearily, Harry said, "I'm glad that I helped, Sirius."

Sirius was staring at Draco, his eyes blank as though he could not believe what had happened. Draco could care less, honestly; in his opinion, it was still his fault for being so thoughtless.

Hermione rose from her seat and helped everyone to their feet.

"Come," Severus said with a small gesture, "we are going back to Hogwarts where, I am sure, Dumbledore awaits us all." He glared at Harry yet again, and reached for the Floo powder on Remus's shelves.

Despite being disoriented, everyone agreed. Dumbledore's Office was the place to straighten all this out.

"Where is Luna?" Remus asked. "Is she alright?"

For once, just this once, Draco did not regret her being alive. She had helped bring Remus back, and because of it, he found a new reason to respect her. "She is talking a well-needed rest. The song used her energy..."

"We'll let her rest, then," he replied, and that was that.

The sky was beginning to darken outside of Remus's window, and Draco knew that he had been awake for two and a half days straight, attempting to see Remus open his eyes again. Was that sense of panic what Hermione felt for Ron? If it was, then he had a new reason to respect Hermione as well. He had almost died, explaining that scenario to Hermione and Snape, reliving it. How many times had Hermione retold Ron's story? Countless times. It was almost a year since Ron's initial disappearance; how did she feel?

**July 17, Monday, EVENING, 2000**

"I see," Dumbledore said as Draco finished his story for the second time. It was the same feeling as before, when he had been talking to Severus and Hermione, but he tried to slow down a little more this time and include a little more detail. "I am glad that you thought to call Luna…I am glad that you all are all right."

"Headmaster," Remus said slowly. "Draco…it wasn't necessary for him to call Luna; Sirius's process was just taking a long time.

"I had to do something," Draco burst. "You and Harry were just…blank, like Sirius—"

"And," Dumbledore interrupted, "I assume you were worried. It's only natural. You were wonderful, Draco…Now, as to what the two of you," he pointed at Harry and Remus, "saw while in the midst of Mister Black's thoughts…"

It was at this moment in response to that request that both Harry and Remus paled, almost in unison.

Draco swore. "I knew it! I knew that you weren't completely well. What are you hiding from me?!"

"…" the anger was still rippling off of Severus in waves, despite the fact that the Potions Master said nothing.

"Settle down, gentlemen," Dumbledore said, with a small edge to his voice. His words implied that he, too, felt Severus's anger. "Harry, Remus, are either of you willing to reveal what you saw?"

There was silence, and Remus slowly shook his head.

"What happened?" Draco asked. The Slytherin would not be able to handle it if he was driven any further from Remus than he already felt. He would not sit idly and watch the man he loved drift away from him because of some bloody War! "Tell me, Remus, now!"

Sirius voiced that he would like to know as well, as he apparently had no recollection of his subconscious encounter with Lupin and Harry.

However, neither wizard looked like he was going to divulge any information, and Remus said finally, "A man's psyche is his own," and that was the end of it, Draco supposed. They would discuss it with no one but Sirius. Harry agreed.

Dumbledore said calmly, "While I would like to allow you three the time to discuss this, I have been confronted by a number of people in the last hour, and I have business waiting to be attended to. The Ministry is deciding how to handle this new threat. We are tracking the three of them now and I hope, Lupin, that you and your comrades at the Ministry will be prepared for a few new victims, for I fear that the Warlock's Council will force Arthur to send capable wizards, perhaps Aurors, after them rather than the people here who are more experienced." He sighed. "I must be there for my friend, as you all are for each other. Now, if you would excuse me…"

They all recognized the signal to leave.

Draco was contemplating everything that he had been told. His main conclusion was that he would not, under any circumstances, allow Blaise, or his father—or any of their byproducts—take Remus from him. Secondly, the War was not over and the fact was that Blaise and Draco's own father were acting NOW, using innocent muggles to make their own dreams a reality. There was only one conclusion he could draw from this. He could not let two people formerly close to him ruin the man, the people, the world he loved.

"May I have a small word, Headmaster?" the question was out before he could think about it.

"…me, too," Harry added quietly as the other shuffled out, purposely avoiding the Potions Master's stare.

Draco felt bad for him. Obviously, the man had warned Harry against doing anything stupid, and Harry, as usual, had done it anyway. Severus hated it when he wasn't being listened to, although even Draco had to say that he wouldn't have wanted to suffer through the Professor's rage.

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "However, do it quickly."

As soon as all signs of the others were gone, Draco whispered, "I want to join that group being sent after my father and Blaise."

Dumbledore sighed. "I knew that you would want to ask about that. I cannot stop you, Draco, but I…wouldn't want—"

"I would like to go, too." It surprised Draco to hear Harry's voice above his own or Dumbledore's. "We must put an end to this, Headmaster. This War needs to end, once and for all."

Dumbledore sighed again. "You are right. I will let you both go on one condition: that you will wait until the trio is located before you leave. Understood?"

"As long as you promise to alert us immediately after they've been found."

Draco was surprised at Harry's resolve in this matter. Despite having fought since he was eleven, despite losing his parents and Ron to dark magic, despite almost being lost in the corridors of his godfather's mind, he was still determined to destroy the source of evil in the wizarding world.

"The two of you are sure?" Dumbledore inquired. "I fear that the Ministry will find them fairly soon."

"Yes," they both answered together.

"Then I will not stop you. You will receive a summons as soon as I hear of any plans. Thank you for your valor. The new world to come will appreciate it. "

_If you live to see it_, Draco's unconscious chimed in. He had to agree.

Upon leaving Dumbledore's Office with Harry, the facts finally dawned on him. "Harry," he said suddenly. "You were planning to hunt for my father anyway, weren't you?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose so."

"Harry Potter, you are stark-raving mad."

Harry laughed at this, but Draco had meant it with every fiber of his being. What other kind of person would throw themselves at danger so carelessly?

"I am mad," Harry admitted, "but, so is hoping that we could kill your father and Blaise. Madness is Hermione believing that Ron is going to wake up. Madness is me hoping that I could cure Sirius of that wretched curse. But it all happened, didn't it?"

Draco nodded. This was true. But he wouldn't resist quipping after such a serious comment, "Madness is the way Snape looked at you."

Harry appeared to ignore the comment entirely. "Sometimes, he said, "It takes a little madness to keep you sane. Do you know who told me that during the War? Mad-Eye Moody. But it's remarkably true." Draco fell into silence.

But, before they parted to take leave to their separate rooms, Harry said something that touched Draco to the core of his soul.

"Well," the Gryffindor commended nonchalantly, "Real madness, Draco, is saying Blaise's name without your famous wince. You not _noticing_ that, though, is just a madness I can't compete with."

_**Beaten by the rain**_

_**Burned by the fire**_

_**The dimly lit night**_

_**The distant lands**_

_**The wings of greed**_

_**Feeling of sin, perishes in the skies, as it scatters**__—"Double Dear"_


	17. Chapter 17

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Seventeen:** The Ghost of a Malfoy

_**I heard it from somewhere.**_

_**I heard it from someone.**_

_**It's a foolish story.**_

_**Sad, isn't it?**__--"Stone Roses"_

**July 17, Monday, EVENING, 2000**

Draco Malfoy was not the first person that Severus expected to see when he sat in his office, mentally fuming and attempting to abstain from the use of his wine collection. He was, for a lack of a better word, pissed. How _dare_ Harry endanger himself without telling anyone? Obviously, the boy hadn't told a single soul—Granger had been looking for him and even Dumbledore could only guess at the child's location. Luckily, the Headmaster was correct as usual. However, a part of him was cross at the Headmaster as well; Albus had always known about the Azkaban incident with Sirius Black, and had neglected to inform them, despite having been consulted by a number of them—himself included—on many occasions for advice and conversation. _The Daily Prophet_ had been reporting recovered victims of Blaise and Malfoy for almost three weeks. When had they broken into Azkaban? How many of the reportedly cured victims had been with Sirius?

And Harry had almost walked into a mental trap.

Did the boy not understand that Blaise and Lucius _wanted_ him to fall prey to their curse? They _wanted_ him to help in the effort, wanted him to lose himself in someone else's horrible memories. He did not care that the others knew how angry he was—they all knew Harry; they would easily conclude that the Gryffindor was such an idiot when he came to his own safety.

"Severus?" a voice called. It was Draco--Severus could tell. His voice was muffled, softened by the door that separated him from the Potions Master. Not wanting to rise from his seat to attend the door, Severus whispered his password to his wand, flicking it with an opening gesture at his door. The young Malfoy wanted to talk, he told Severus. "I want to speak with you concerning my father."

Severus gave the boy leave to seat himself in the Potions Master's chambers, but Severus's mind was not on Lucius; he was thinking about Harry. On top of all of the dunderheaded actions Harry had taken, the Gryffindor was avoiding him for some reason. Of course, considering that Severus was currently enraged, the Professor could understand the logic behind that decision. However, there was another reason Severus sensed what was behind Harry avoiding him, though the Slytherin couldn't seem to put his finger on it; there was that one single, solitary detail that he felt he wasn't noticing.

Severus sighed, and tried to turn his attention to Draco.

"What is it that you require, young Malfoy?" he asked laconically.

"I said," Draco repeated, "that I wanted to clear any issues concerning you and my father."

Severus laughed bitterly, "There are far too many complexities between your sire and I to even begin dissecting the root of our problems. You mean well, Draco, but there is nothing you can do for a generation you know nothing about."

To this comment, Draco smirked, raising an eyebrow. This gesture, so much like his father, disturbed Severus. "I know a lot more about your relationship with my father than you think."

It was this reply that made Severus rise, and began to pace. "There is nothing to discuss," the Potions Master quipped sharply, "if you are only here to bring to life a non-existent bond. There is nothing to know."

"I know that you loved him."

Severus froze in his tracks; he couldn't even turn to look Lucius's reincarnation in the eyes.

"I know that you loved him," Draco repeated, "and I know that he used you. He used you, beat you, and left you to rot when you couldn't rise upon your feet to serve him further. I know my father. I do not give him the benefit of the doubt, and I do not underestimate him. I am simply his only heir, to which the burden of attempting to pick up the pieces of his broken name, my blood soaked, shattered name has fallen."

"There is nothing to repair here," Severus replied coldly.

"You're lying. You know it, I know it and my father knows it."

"Do not bring Lucius into this!" the Potions Master snapped. "He has nothing to do with me."

"He has everything to do with you. He broke your heart, and now you're a miserable man because of it!" Draco yelled back. "Between my father, your parents, and Voldemort, your life was screwed from the very beginning!"

A pause. Severus was indeed surprised by how much Draco knew. "How much did Lucius tell you?" he asked softly, his finger itching for a glass to grip.

"Everything, unfortunately. No details were spared. It is but one tale of my father's debauchery, of…if you will—cunning—as he refers to it."

Severus ground his teeth in disgust. "What is it that you want from me, Draco? Do you think that this is fair, you coming to my chambers as the carbon copy of the ghost that haunts me, asking for redemption on your father's behalf?"

"I know for a fact that it is not. However, it is all that I can do."

"And all I can do is move on. I can do nothing to a man who regrets nothing; for a man who sees me as nothing but a mere stepping stone on this journey to glory." Weary of the argument, weary of the memory of Lucius, Severus waved his ghost, and Draco away. "Please leave. In all honesty, Draco there is nothing that you can do but leave me."

"So that you can sit here and brood with your usual dosage of wine when there are questions I can answer? Solutions I can supply?"

"Believe me, young Malfoy, when I tell you that the time I spent thinking of your father was short-lived in comparison to the rest of my life. And," Severus added rather proudly, "I have not had a glass of wine for almost a week. There is currently no reason to brood."

"Oh, great," Draco replied sarcastically, "because overcoming your addiction to alcohol is the real point here." Severus turned to look at Draco. The boy did indeed look like his father: hair, eyes and all—even his sarcastic demeanor when situations did not favor his expectations; it was all the same.

However, this son of Malfoy had something Lucius did not: A shred of humanity.

Severus did not want to speak to Draco anymore. "Knowing that you are his heir is enough reconciliation for me, Draco. Honor my request and please depart from my chambers. I have nothing more to say." Apparently, Draco was satisfied with Severus's semi-answer, and rose; the young Malfoy seemed surprised that their conversation had been so short. Perhaps he had been hoping that Severus would spell his guts to his father's memory. Alas the boy had come decades too late—the Professor had already shut those feelings away. Severus had no intention of asking anything. He had done away with his grief, his lamenting, and his mental outcries of '_why? Why?_' long, long ago, when he realized that Lucius was continuing his life like the Potions Master didn't exist.

But Draco, as he approached Severus's door, stopped suddenly. "Severus," Draco said slowly.

"Yes, young Malfoy?"

"…my father, Severus," Draco said, his voice full of regret that the Professor assumed was on his father's behalf. "Lucius…my father…he did love you. He still does." Severus stood firm, however, even in the face of this news. He nodded to acknowledge Draco, and the young heir exited the room. Then, only then did Severus reveal himself; he struggled to reach a chair before his knees gave way, and once just once, he allowed himself to be weak; he immediately summoned forth a bottle of wine to calm his nerves and numb his legs. Leave it to a Malfoy to screw everything up. He knew, deep down, that knowing anything about himself or Lucius was not Draco's fault, but in any case those seven words had been enough to stab past the layers of strength Severus had meticulously constructed over the years and pierce his heart.

As he raised the glass to his lips, he thought fleetingly, _Harry would not approve…_

And what of Harry?

Disgusted at himself, Severus stared first at the glass, then the bottle and back. There was no longer a chance for Lucius, no matter how long he contemplated; Severus knew this. Any chance they had was shattered when Lucius had utterly disowned him to serve the Dark Lord. That ear of time was now over. However, if what Draco said was true…At last he could live out the remainder of his life knowing that fact, respecting it, realizing it. Realizing that, despite all his evil, all his wickedness, all his folly, that there was one person in this life that Lucius Malfoy loved—and that it was him.

It was a hopeless love, a declining love, a twisted love—a love that had ended before it had truly begun.

_Is that truly,_ he thought to himself,_ the only type of love you are capable of producing? Are those the only types of relationships you participate in? _It was true. His relationship with Harry, even, was twisted. It contained parallel insights that no man should have on life, actions that could not even begin to untangle themselves from their own complex origins, and a decided lack of his relationship with Draco was strange. For one, you do not resolve issues with a past lover's actions with his son, especially not actions to the caliber of Lucius's transgressions.

Draco loved Remus Lupin, and their love was so pure that at one time Severus had questioned their naïveté. However, as a Malfoy and as a Slytherin, Draco was not naïve by far. How was it that Draco, whose past with Blaise was the very echo of the Potions Master's with Lucius, did not end up the very same? What had redeemed Draco?

Was there anything that could redeem himself?

_**Should I not believe in what we did then?**_

_**And if I do, leave you behind and feel regret again?**_

_**Is this the way to say goodbye, love?**_

_**When you and I had promises to fulfill?**_

_**That kiss you placed upon my heart, there still remains a lonely mark.**_

_**Can't seem to lose the memories of when we met in the dark**_

_**And as I sigh, I can feel you once again**_

_**But it fades just as fast as it began.—**__"It's Too Late"_

_

* * *

  
_

A/N: First of all, I would like to thank my beta reader, who is patient with me through all of my petty mistakes—Lady Emerald Black! Give her a round of applause for making this fic lots better!

I was trying to give some insight into how Severus Snape's thought process worked. The best way to portray his feelings is typically through other people and how he treats them. I thought that it was interesting to know how it is he felt about Draco, given his history.


	18. Chapter 18

As always, I would like to remind everyone that the lyrics featured in EVERY CHAPTER so far has been From the anime "Weiss Kreuz".

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Eighteen:** Goodbye pt. 1

_**Don't push me away, love,**_

_**Let me hold you closer to me**_

_**It waited for so long, no,**_

_**Please don't laugh and turn away…**__--"Bosonova, Casonova"_

**July 17, Monday, NIGHT, 2000**

Harrry found himself waiting outside of Severus's chambers, not knowing what to do. He could leave at any moment; this was the time, if any, to address any and all feelings he had for the Potions Master. Severus had been hurt by Lucius; that, Harry knew—but Harry didn't have the time it would take to even try to undo the damage. The Slytherin was scarred far too deeply. Harry took a deep breath. His feelings were important, too; how could he express them without making Severus uncomfortable? Not to mention his absence when he had attempted to—and succeeded in—helping Sirius. The things he had seen in Sirius's mind were enough to last him a lifetime.

He shook his head slightly, as if to toss the thoughts away. Lupin had told him to avoid any re-living the experiences unless he was really ready to examine himself first—that way was the one true "counter spell" to Lucius's curse; to be satisfied and settled with the things one had done in his life. Harry wasn't nearly prepared for that. Not by far. How could he be, when even the thought of revealing his feelings to Severus had him doubting himself? But Harry did not regret helping his godfather, no matter how stupid the decision to do it had been. That would be the bigger issue with Severus. The glare that Harry had received from the Potions Master had frozen the boy's veins; he never wanted to make Severus that angry again.

_Well, that's moot,_ he thought. _What with me leaving and all._

And it was true. He was leaving, and there was no guarantee for his safe return—in fact, he wasn't even wasting his energy hoping for it—and with Lucius and a new, barely curable curse, the chances of anyone returning alive were slim. But that was not precisely the reason why Harry was taking the risk of speaking to Severus again so soon; if he didn't, there was a good chance that he would never speak to the man again. His instincts were telling him that he should back out of fighting this battle—but of course, he wouldn't. If Draco could face his father and the man who had broken his heart, then Harry could help his friend and face the pair as well.

At least Severus would live.

With this conviction, Harry knocked on Severus's door.

Almost immediately the door opened in reply with a tall, weary looking Severus standing at the thresh hold as though he were about to leave.

"Severus…" Harry said softly, but even that name died on his tongue as he saw the look on the Potions Master's face. It was pale, as though Severus had seen a ghost, and his eyes looked distant, gazing at Harry and through him as though to look at someone else. And Harry knew exactly who that someone else had to be; the person who had haunted Severus's thoughts and actions for more than two decades. Lucius Malfoy.

Harry swallowed, determined to accomplish his goal before his departure. "Severus—"

"Harry?" Severus said, his voice as distant as his eyes. Then suddenly, as though he was awakening from a dream, Severus said again, more firmly, "Harry." His eyes came into focus, and the older man seemed to realize his surroundings.

"Why are you here, Harry?" he asked weakly; Harry could tell that the man's heart wasn't in his inquiry.

"Are you okay, Severus? Is something bothering you?"

"I…I'm fine."

Harry knew this was a lie. "Severus…"

Severus stared right into Harry's eyes. "Why…did you come here?"

"You're thinking about Lucius, aren't you?"

"No," Severus said quickly. But it was too quickly.

"You're lying," Harry said. "I know you're thinking about him."

"You know nothing of my thoughts," Severus said, his voice suddenly cold.

"If it's not him, then who is it? What's bothering you?"

The deep, piercing stare that Severus gave as his reply was more than enough to reveal his real answer.

_What could I… _Harry's thoughts began, but Harry's voice found itself first. "Why would you be thinking about me…?"

Severus seemed to be thinking of an answer. "It wasn't my intention, Harry, to drag you down with me…"

Harry didn't give the Professor to finish his thoughts. "You didn't drag me here, Severus. I want to be here. I brought myself here."

"You don't deserve it."

"Severus…"

"Please," Severus said, "I need time to think."

Harry didn't know what had happened to Severus to throw his mind so far off course, but Harry didn't have any time to give to Severus; he could be called to leave at any moment. "Severus," Harry said, stepping closer to the older man, "I love you." The words fell from his tongue like a burden landing between them. Severus seemed not to know what to say. The silence stretched on for moments after Harry had spoken; and with every passing second Harry felt as though someone had hit him across the face. Harry closed his eyes. "I had to tell you how I felt…" The Boy Who Lived swallowed, deciding not to take Severus's silence personally. Severus had been cut deeply by his last lover; Harry would not rush him into anything. "Even though I know you don't feel the same," he added, trying to take some of the pressure of the moment off of Severus.

The Potions Master opened his mouth, finally, to speak. "Harry…what do you expect me to say?"

"Nothing," Harry said with a smile. "Nothing at all." And with that, Harry brushed his lips again Severus's lightly before turning away. He didn't really know what he was doing—just anything that would keep his mind off of the pain that he had just felt. "I'll leave you now," Harry said. "You've got enough to think about already." And it was true. The look in Severus's eyes had told Harry how much pain he had been putting the older through; how many memories of Lucius had Harry made the Head of Slytherin relive? It was almost cruel, Harry suddenly realized, to keep tormenting a man who had suffered for years to settle his sins within himself.

"Harry." The word stopped the brunette in mid-step, but he didn't turn; he didn't want to see the suffering in Severus's eyes anymore. "Harry, I'm sorry."

"For what?" Harry shrugged. "_I_ was the one who—"

"I am sorry that I cannot give you what you desire."

Involuntarily, Harry spun to face Severus again, still trying to avoid the man's eyes. "You survived the War, Severus. That is more than I could ever ask for."

Severus furrowed his brow, as though he was confused. "The War is not over yet."

"It will be soon. And I know that you are strong enough to live through what is left."

It was then that Harry also realized the true nature of his relationship with Severus; they were hopelessly attempting to heal each other's wounds, becoming entangled in the very wounds they were trying to remedy as they did so. It was a hopeless knot of hurt, emotion and confusion.

Harry did not desire to make things worse for Severus.

"Harry," there was a tone of recognition in Severus's voice, as though the man knew, just as Harry did that after the brunette's exit, Harry would not be coming back. "Don't…" Severus sighed. "…don't leave." Severus's voice seemed broken, and Harry wanted to make it go away. But Harry had somewhere else to be. "I have to," Harry refused, his voice cracking a little. He cleared his throat quietly. "I have to go."

However, before Harry could even turn away again, he felt a firm grip clamp down on his shoulder. "Severus." The older man was making everything more difficult. How would Harry cope with this, knowing that Severus couldn't love him? How would Harry work up the courage to confront his enemies when Severus continued to hold onto him? And there was still a part of Harry that didn't want to let go.

Severus took a step toward Harry, and said, "I'm sorry, but this is all that I can give." Then, without warning, he gave a strong pull on Harry's arm, leaning down and pushing his lips against the Gryffindor's in a deep kiss.

Personally, Harry was disappointed with the amount of self-restraint he had against Severus; for all of his boasting about no longer being naïve or fragile, he melted into the older man's embrace, unconsciously pulling Severus closer. Harry blinked back tears as he returned Severus's kiss, wishing that the moment he was experiencing was reality and that he could just remain where he was standing. In that kiss, he could feel Severus giving all that he could. Merlin, it was more than enough, and Harry barely suppressed a moan as Severus's tongue lightly caressed his own. But that was as far as Severus was willing to go, and the Potions Master retreated from the kiss, eyes as black and piercing as ever. A hand was still attached to Harry to help the boy keep balance.

At that point, there was nothing else to say. Severus's face was once more unreadable, and Harry took that as his opportunity of departure.

Harry turned to go—this time without interruption—and exited the older man's chambers without looking back. That kiss had been their goodbye.

_Will I ever see him again…?_

_**In the place that I've left behind, there I've left my past gently swaying.**_

_**All those memories, so beautiful, but like a dying rose; softly, fading.**__—"Last in my Winds"_

_

* * *

  
_

A/N: As always, thanks to my beta reader, Lady Emeral Black! She did a awesome job with this chapter :D

Even while I was typing this, I felt emotional. I didn't really know what to say at the end. I really like this scene and even while I was writing it things were really sad. I'd say a little more, but I don't want to spoil anything that will happen in later chapters. My biggest regret is not being able to write Severus as the perspective in this chapter—Just reading it, he was so lost………..Ciao.


	19. Chapter 19

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Nineteen:** Goodbye pt. 2

_**I want to smash loneliness into tiny pieces**_

_**--like a frozen flower—**_

_**I'll crush and break it with my own two hands.**__—"Stone Roses"_

**July 18, Tuesday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

The afternoon following Harry's return from Sirius's mind, Hermione had decided to accompany "The Godfather"—a nickname Hermione had given Sirius from one of her favorite muggle movies. The moment that Sirius and Hermione had passed the great Hall, he had demanded to see Ron in person, and Hermione had agreed. Molly Weasley had come to visit her son, and had relieved Hermione of her nursing duty. She smiled as they approached.

"Sirius, I heard you were doing wonderfully."

Sirius bowed politely, "Fit as a fiddle. I hear your son is the same."

"So do I," Molly said sadly, "but I don't k now for the life of me why he's not awake yet."

Hermione added her own smile, "Well, Ron was never quick to catch on…"

They all laughed, and Sirius said, "I'm sure he'll pop up soon Molly."

"I know he will," she replied, "but I wonder when." Hermione tried to change the topic of conversation. "Has anyone seen Harry?"

"Not at all," Molly answered. "He must be resting. Lupin, I know, is doing the same. You'll find him when he's ready."

"I need to speak with Lupin and Harry," Sirius said, "I still don't remember what happened…"

"Perhaps it's best if you don't know," Molly said.

"I agree."

Sirius looked down at Ron--his hair was brushed back, his eyes closed. "When we find them," Sirius said, his voice suddenly cold, "I will kill them myself."

Molly busied herself cleaning around Ron's bed and deliberately ignored Sirius's statement. Hermione decided that it was time to go. "Sirius. We should look after Harry as well; we can visit him."

Sirius allowed himself to be steered away from Ron's lifeless body by Hermione, and into the corridors of Hogwarts. "It's nice," Sirius said, "That Hogwarts is still standing after all these years. I remember when James was alive; Peter, too. Little bastard used to actually be amusing sometimes."

"I wish I could have been there."

"And Lily! It was obvious from the start that James loved adored her. Only back then, we were assholes…" he sighed nostalgically.

"You'll be happy to hear that Hogwarts is planning to reopen this fall, then, I assume?" Hermione said.

"Of course. Though I would like to know who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor will be."

Reaching Harry's room, Hermione halted, knocking lightly. No one answered, and she found that the door was locked, and her cries were unheard when she attempted to get Harry's attention. "Where could he be?" Hermione said. She grew worried. It was this same scenario that led to Harry's discovery with Lupin and Sirius. With Harry's track record for getting himself in trouble…

"He's fine," Sirius said confidently, as though he had read her mind. "He's probably skulking about and making everyone worry." Hermione sighed. The Harry that would've done what Sirius suggested was no longer with them. Harry was a more haunted, crueler person.

"If you're looking for Harry ," came a voice from behind the pair, smooth as silk, "he's with me."

Both Gryffindors turned, facing the speaker, who happened to be none other than Draco. How was it that the Slytherin always knew where Hermione was…?

"Is he busy?" Hermione asked, ignoring the hostile look on Sirius's face at the sight of the young Malfoy. Sirius had never quite been able to forgive Malfoy for his years of torture to Harry at Hogwarts, and that animosity had only been amplified by the fact that Draco and Lupin were together.

This time, though, Draco did not bother with Sirius. "He is. We're working on something for the Ministry concerning Blaise and Lucius." Hermione had expected Draco's wince. However, Draco stood his ground firmly, not jarred by his own words like he usually was, and Hermione almost cried—she knew what the two of them meant to him. Apparently, Draco had finally gotten over his memories of Blaise.

Instead of addressing Draco, Hermione chose a different topic, continuing with Harry. "Does he need any help?"

Draco shook his head. "We're fine, actually. We should be finished after a moment. Hopefully, before the end of the day. Sirius, I trust you are enjoying your stay?"

Sirius growled in reply, "It's alright…"

"Wonderful. I'll be taking my leave—I have to go get Harry to move to my room."

"Where is he?"

"Of all places; the _library_," Draco joked. "I never thought he would enter willingly." With that, Draco bowed shortly, and bid them farewell. "Good day, Hermione, and to you, Sirius; I'll tell Remus you said hello when I see him next. And Hermione," he added with a small smile, "Ron will be fine; I can feel it."

As Draco strolled away, Sirius said to Hermione, "Something is going on. Draco was way too polite."

Hermione huffed. "Simply because Draco is more courteous now than he used to be—"

"No…that was just too _nice_. We should ask Lupin if something is going on with them. Come on."

Taking the asserting role, Sirius led Hermione to his own resting place in the infirmary, showing Hermione Poppy's unlocked office door, which led to a roaring fireplace. "James and I used to sneak in here all the time, and just enjoy each other—or steal potions ingredients—whichever was more fun at the time. You can use this fireplace to visit anywhere securely, unless Dumbledore has made drastic changes." Noticing a jar of Floo powder on the mantle, growing green as the light filtered through it, Sirius grabbed it. Casting it to the flames, he said, "Come on, Hermione; we'll figure this out."

Hermione honestly thought that Sirius was being a bit paranoid about Draco, but she was sure that Lupin might clear it all up. She decided to ignore the small _paranoid par t of her_ that whispered, _Maybe Harry and Draco are doing whatever it is together…_

She shook her head free of such thoughts; Draco hadn't even walked in the Library's direction.

(scene shift)

**July 18, Tuesday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

When they arrived in Lupin's office in the Ministry, it was in total disarray, with paper strewn about the floor, and books everywhere. "Remus?" Sirius wheeled around the room, eyes searching. Alighting upon the desk at the forefront of the room, he said, "Remus, what are you doing?"

Hermione had to take a moment to think. Why was Lupin's room like this? Lupin sat behind his desk, head down and about to look upward when he paused, realized who it was, and put his head back down. "Remus, what is this rubbish? Tell me. What did Draco do to you? I knew there was something!"

Lupin looked up, and Hermione felt her heart go out to him; he looked a mess, his hair disheveled and unkempt, his robes in matching condition, and his eyes—they made Hermione want to cry. They were so sad, and she could tell he was in pain, even though he hadn't said anything. "N-nothing, Sirius. It's just the Lycanthropy…"

Sirius snorted. "The next full moon isn't for almost two whole weeks. Besides, I've been your friend for years, and I've never seen you look like this. What happened to you?"

Lupin frowned more distinctively than he had before, and said shallowly, "I'm fine."

Hermione knew this to be untrue. "Please, tell us," she said gently. "I may be able to help you. Is it really werewolf-related?"

Lupin shook his head, rising and beginning to pick up the paper and books from the floor.

"Remus…" Sirius said in a threatening tone. "Tell me."

Remus kept cleaning his room, but said almost too low to hear, "He left me."

"What?"

Spinning on his heel to face them, he said loudly, almost too loud, "_Draco left me!_"

Even though she was still confused by what he meant, Hermione was immediately by the researcher's side, hugging him tightly. Why would Draco do such a thing?

"_I'll tell Remus you said hello when I see him next…" _Why would he say all of that with a smile if he had just broken up with Remus Lupin, the love his life?

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. Lupin didn't answer; he simply slumped onto Hermione' shoulder, standing shock-still.

Sirius gritted his teeth. "Bastard. I knew he would do something stupid like this. That Slytherin—"

"Sirius," Hermione hissed. "You're not making things better."

After a moment, Lupin pushed himself from Hermione and began cleaning again, straightened furniture, stacking books and papers.

"I'll kill him!" Sirius said, rage flourishing in every aspect of his voice.

"No," was the solemn reply he received from Lupin. "You will leave him."

"Only if you agree to kill him for me."

"No, leave Draco alone." The statement was said with conviction, and Sirius didn't reply.

"Will you be alright?" Hermione asked. "Do you want us to stay? Do you want some help?"

"No," he said, "I'll be fine here. As long as he's alive and well, I'll be fine."

Hermione had to drag Sirius from the Office, the older Gryffindor swearing and cursing the entire journey back.

"He's going to pay," Sirius said, pushing past a shocked-looking Madam Pomfrey as they exited her fireplace.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said to the medi-wizard. "It was very important."

"Well, I certainly hope so!" She replied.

Turning to leave, Hermione realized that Sirius was already gone. This entire situation was a mess. Why would Draco leave Lupin?

She had to find out.

_**Even if I protect the door of destiny**_

_**Raise the offspring of grief,**_

_**The age of chaos is coming to maturity;**_

_**It seems as though no one alone has cause for pride.**__—"Epitaph"_

_

* * *

  
_

A/N: Kudos to my beta reader, Lady Emerald Black. She's awesome!

I know that angsty!Remus is so sad. You'll get to see exactly why in the next chapter. It's so sad—I almost want to give it away!


	20. Chapter 20

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Twenty:** Goodbye pt. 3

_**As if to take care of our sadness**_

_**We hold it close**_

_**The memories that we built**_

_**Will describe our beautiful loneliness**__—"Beautiful Alone"_

**July 18, Tuesday, MORNING, 2000**

The morning after requesting to join Dumbledore's group with Harry, Draco decided to tell Lupin of his departure. He loved Lupin, honestly, and with all his heart—why would he face leaving without telling the werewolf goodbye?

And so, it was with a heavy sigh the he dressed, preparing to see his beloved.

(scene shift)

"Leave," Draco said abruptly, as soon as he realized that Luna was in Lupin's office. "Now."

Luna sighed deeply, and said, "…that was a rather rude entrance, wasn't it?" Her voice was in its sing-song tone as per usual, taunting him, and it didn't put Draco in any better mood. He had already resolved not to tell her anything.

"Leave," he growled. There was viciousness in his eyes that allowed Lupin to read how serious he was.

Remus turned to Luna and said softly, "Please, if you would give us a moment…"

"Alright," Luna conceded, rising from her chair. "But it sounds like someone has some big news…" and she made her way to the exit that led her out into the Ministry hallway. Where she could possibly go, Draco realized, he could not fathom, and a part of him hoped in a haphazard fashion that she would not be penalized for roaming about the building.

"I hope," Remus said not even before the door closed behind her, "that you have a good reason for doing that."

"Yes," Draco said. Approaching Lupin's desk, the Slytherin reached out, grasping the tie that lie flat above Remus's shirt and pulling the man close enough for a chaste kiss. "You know that I love you, right Remus?" Draco did not fancy revealing his emotions in this way; but he knew that he may not be coming back from his endeavor. Or worse, he would return as a living corpse, like Sirius had. He had to get his feelings across as plainly, as simply as possible. No games this time. No tricks.

"Of course," Remus replied.

Draco looked him in the eyes. "Do you really know? That I love you no matter what? That even under _Imperious_ I love you in the deepest crevices of my heart?"

This statement made Remus pale. He pulled away from Draco, as the younger man knew he would when he realized what Draco was trying to say. "Draco…what are you going to do…?"

Draco bit his lip. There was no holding back now. "I am leaving Hogwarts." The full understanding of what he was about to do dawned on Remus; Draco could see it on the man's face. There was only one reason why Draco would leave Hogwarts—would leave_ Remus_. There was only one thing that could separate the two of them.

"No," Remus said defiantly. "I won't allow it. You couldn't possibly find them."

"I must."

"You MUST NOT!" It was a rare moment when Remus raised his voice, and Draco regretted being the one to make him do it. "I'll tell Dumbledore—"

"He is the one who offered me the opportunity."

Remus seemed to not be taking the news well. "Why? Why would you…?" There seemed to be no words to express the Lycanthrope's grief. Grey eyes watched as pale hands ran themselves through golden-brown hair. The tawny eyes across from him filled with tears. "You can't…"

"I leave when and if the Aurors following Lucius send word."

Remus buried his face into his hands. "Draco…how could you do this…? Why…?"

"I should have killed my father, long ago. I should have killed Blaise as well—but I let them walk away from me. I watched Blaise walk into my father's hands. I will release them both."

The tears silently crept down Remus's cheeks. "Draco."

"I'm leaving when Dumbledore sends word," Draco said; he wasn't going to let himself be swayed by Remus's emotions; this was something that he had to do. "I'm sorry, Remus." He could only stand there as the love of his life cried his eyes out. He was so unbelievably weak.

Remus's expression was still anguish. "How can you…you're just going to leave me—Draco, you could die!"

"I know that. I am prepared for it."

Remus seemed to choke back a sob. "But I'm…I'm not—I'm not, Draco." He looked into the Slytherin's eyes. "What will I do without you?" In a second's time, Draco was by Remus's side, the older man's face buried into the blonde's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Draco murmured. It was all that he could say.

"That's not enough!" Remus said, pounding a fist into Draco's chest, and then pushing him away. "What if…what if…I have to _cure_ you? I wouldn't…I couldn't…" Draco felt tears in his own eyes; he really did love the werewolf with all of his heart. He could feel the full weight of Remus's pain—it was a heavy weight to bear. And Draco would bear it.

"Remus, I love you. I always will, no matter what happens. You know that."

"I know…" Draco could see the sincerity of the words in his lover's eyes. "I love you, too; there will never be one to replace you." Remus wiped some tears from his face, a strange hardness now present in his expression. Shakily, he said, "I…I support you, Draco."

Those words lightened his heart. Draco smiled weakly. "Thank you, Remus."

But the werewolf paused. "Draco—"

The Slytherin read his partner's thoughts. "Yes, I have to go. This is important."

Remus fell silent again, and Draco honestly didn't' know what else to say. The Slytherin made to move, but Remus reached out and clutched the blonde's robes, wordlessly demanding Draco to stay. Draco smiled. "I will. I will stay with you until Dumbledore calls me. My last moments among those I love will be with you." Draco could see Remus's eyebrows wrinkled in thought, trying to process everything that Draco had just said. He was still troubled deeply, and even Draco's promise to stay by the Lycanthrope's side did nothing to assuage his fears. Draco sought to remove that expression, and to rid Remus of the pain he was feeling. "Remus."

The man in question turned his attention to Draco, and the blonde knew that Remus had been expecting it; Draco's lips on the older man's, consoling him, telling him through love and care and respect that he would rather die than betray Remus's trust. Draco's lips sought the same in returned, and as Remus returned the kiss, Draco knew that he had jarred the man badly. Slowly coaxing the tongue from Remus's mouth Draco shivered, his mind spinning. It had been ages since he had kissed Remus, who was always busy with work and research. He regretted that they were being forced together only under these circumstances.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Draco didn't like the intrusion, but he slowly pulled away from Remus with a sigh and looked toward the source of the sound—the window behind Remus's desk. "It's an owl," Remus said hoarsely, and nodded toward in the same direction that Draco had been looking. Indeed there it was, a barn owl baring a single scroll of parchment. Draco approached the window, opening it; a letter, very small, fell into his hands, and the owl flew away without the smallest hoot. Draco paled when he saw that the scroll was sealed…

…with the Hogwarts insignia.

Remus saw it too, but Draco didn't notice the werewolf's panicked expression. Draco only felt the gripping hand on his shoulders as he stared at the scroll. Remus spun Draco to face him, not even warning the Slytherin as Remus kissed him hungrily, relentlessly, and although Draco couldn't feel it, desperately. Despite the knowledge that he had to leave, _now_, Draco let himself melt into Remus's final embrace. He moaned gently into Remus's mouth, the older man pressing their bodies close together. Draco's hand clenched around the parchment as Remus assaulted his mouth. When the werewolf did break the kiss, panting, he said against Draco's cheek, "Please, Draco. Don't leave me."

The words were a dagger to Draco's heart. He remembered that day, almost two years ago, his own face swollen with tears as he looked into Blaise's brown eyes. _"Please, don't leave me."_ He had said the exact same thing. Draco could feel his heart breaking all over again. Blaise's answer had been, _"Then come with me, if you care so much. If you really love me, then come. We will make the world glorious."_ In that moment, Blaise had sounded exactly like Draco's father, and Draco could not—he did not—agree with his father.

Draco shook his head at Remus, to the way he knew Remus felt. "I can't say. I have to fight, Remus, I have to…"

The Lycanthrope stood silently, and after a moment Draco untangled himself from the broken man before him, approaching the fireplace and reaching into his pocket for floo powder. That was when Remus cracked; in an emotional rage, he swept everything from his desk: books, papers and several other items that crashed onto the floor with loud sounds. Draco heard some object land with a definite crack. "You don't know what you're doing!" Remus shouted at Draco. "You're going to die!"

Draco, despite Remus's behavior, smiled. "I love you, Remus," he said, pulling the floo powder from his pocket. He knew what Remus was doing, how he was feeling. Draco would only hurt him by arguing back. He would not offer Remus an ultimatum. He would not make this into the same situation that he had gone through with Blaise.

Remus continued to rage around his office. "You don't know what you're doing to me!"

"I'm sorry. I love you, Remus."

"You don't!" Remus was beginning to sound like a child. "If you loved me, you wouldn't hurt me like this."

"If I didn't love you, I'd let this world die by my father's hand. I love you, Remus." Draco cast the powder onto the flames. With a whoosh, they turned bright green.

"Draco, what if you don't come back?"

"I love you, Remus." Draco stepped into the flames.

"Please, Draco, don't—"

"I love you, Remus J. Lupin." And with those words and a short shout at the flames, he was gone.

Draco didn't see Lupin collapse at his desk after his departure, tears falling onto the mahogany, but he didn't have to; he had already predicted what would happen after he left.

(scene shift)

**July 18, Tuesday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

Draco had done it; he had left Lupin. It had been like tearing a piece of his own soul from his body; Remus had no idea what he had done to Draco with his reaction. Only his resolve to save the future kept him from collapsing into himself. He opened the parchment the owl had dropped into his hands in Remus's office. He recognized Dumbledore's handwriting in a short scrawl:

_Draco,  
Report to my Office when this arrives. It is time.  
--Albus Dumbledore_

As he sped from his room to venture to the Headmaster's Office, he encountered Hermione and Sirius, traveling down one of Hogwarts' many hallways. They looked strangely lonely, and the sight reminded him that Harry would be going as well.

"If you're looking for Harry," he lied without hesitation, "He's with me." After all, the Boy-Who-Lived would indeed be with him very soon.

"Is he busy?" Hermione asked, and Draco could see the dislike in Sirius's eyes, and he ignored the latter and answered the former; Sirius would be rid of him in only a few _moments_ anyway.

"He is; we're working on something for the Ministry concerning Lucius and Blaise." At least that portion was true, and both Draco and Harry's personal involvement with those involved would deter questions that were too specific. Even Sirius's face seemed to soften a bit when he heard the subject matter.

"Does he need any help?"

_Go away_, Draco thought. He shook his head, telling the pair that he and Harry would soon be done and asking about Sirius's stay at Hogwarts. Sirius growled a response.

"Wonderful. I'll be taking my leave—I have to get Harry to move to my room." Draco said.

"Where is he?"

"Of _all_ places, the library," Draco replied, making a short joke about the irony. "Good day, Hermione, and to you, Sirius; I'll tell Remus that you both said hello when I see him next. And Hermione, Ron will be fine; I can feel it." Those were his last words to them, the last gifts of happiness before he left. He desperately hoped that he would live long enough to make those lies, however well-intentioned, up to them.

_**As I go, even until I reach the world's end, as it may**_

_**Hell itself will never faze me if your Requiem is heard**_

_**Once again, once again, this cliché, "love" tries to save the world…**_

_**Far away, far away, you await me in your Heaven**_

_**And I swear, here and now, to return before it fades away.**_

_**So my love,**_

_**No, no, no don't cry.**__—"Piece of Heaven"

* * *

_

A/N: Thanks to my beta reader, Lady Emerald Black, who reviews these chapters even though she's already read them! I'm glad that this chapter was a little bit better for reviewing!

I tried very hard to improve how I organized my paragraphs in this particular chapter. I've noticed recently that some things can be consolidated and I'm trying very hard to change my ways. If you notice, the paragraphs—even some of the ones involving speech—are a lot larger and the story isn't broken up into so many pieces.

RECENT EDIT TO AUTHOR'S NOTES: I like how ffnet is improvig how the document manager works. I remember back in 2004, when you had to read through the whole chapter to make sure that the formatting stuck to certain words and stuff...it's come a long way. Also, the next chapter batch will be out soon! You won't have to wait so long. I'm sorry I kept you all waiting. I am alive, and I do still write fanfiction. I'm working on a one-shot YGO ficlet for someone who asked for it...


	21. Chapter 21

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Twenty-One: **Goodbye pt. 3

_**Beaten by the rain**_

_**Burned by the fire**_

_**The dimly lit night**_

_**The distant lands**_

_**The wings of greed**_

_**Feeling of sin, perishes in the skies, as it scatters**__—Weiss "Double Dear"_

**July 19, Wednesday, MORNING, 2000**

A little more than a full day after Harry's visit, Severus Snape awoke with a terrible headache and a lingering sense of loss. The events that had transpired the day before—first Draco's visit and then Harry's follow up—had tangled up the Potion Master's emotions, jumbled them and had, in sense, put the 'fusion' in his 'confusion'. He didn't know how to feel. He usually did not need to worry about his emotions—he did not allow himself to feel to the extent that it interfered with his thought processes. Then he had made the mistake of resolving to deter Harry from his dark path—a path that would have ensured The-Boy-Who-Lived's transformation into a dark, gloomy, and suspicious hero.

"_I love you." _Those words, spoken with the lightheartedness of a true Gryffindor, echoed through his mind. Even as Harry had spoken them, Severus had wanted to return them—but his heart could not. There was too much pain, too much suffering that accompanied such emotions. He was not willing to submit himself to that sort of vulnerability. Not again.

"_He did love you. He still does."_ Draco's voice, almost identical to his father's also mingled in Severus's thought. It was moments like those that had convinced Severus Snape to lock himself up in his dungeons. What was he to do? It was a very plain choice, in his opinion. He could continue in this self-loathing manner and remain indecisive; or he could remedy the situation by taking action. It annoyed him how pathetic his life had become; he was involved in a romance with a wizard who could barely be called an adult, someone who made rash decisions without thinking practically about his own safety.

_But you've given yourself to him, haven't you?_ A sneering voice snapped back in his mind. It was an unbridled thought that had not been processed through realism and logic.

"_That is all that I can give." _Despite what he was telling himself, Severus_ had_ given Harry _something_, or had at least tried to. And Harry had taken it, an almost urgent look in his eyes.

"_I am sorry I cannot give you what you desire."_ That was true. The feelings were not there to return. Sure, he favored Harry…quite a bit more than others, but…it was too painful. He brought back too many memories.

…Severus didn't like how that thought sounded; it seemed like an excuse. He had once told himself that he would not consider any future involving Harry, and he was very disappointed with the follow-through he had possessed concerning that statement. Unconsciously—no, purposefully, even when Draco had visited him, he had been thinking,_ Can I afford to do this for myself? For him?_

But he could not. Lucius, proud and tall, still stood over him, holding him back, even though the Potions Master wanted nothing to do with the Death Eater.

"_You're talking about Lucius, aren't you?"_

"_No."_ And he had been telling the truth—he had been thinking about Harry. Lucius's hold on the Professor was now so strong that even Harry saw Lucius haunting him.

"_You survived the War, Severus. That is more than I could ever ask for."_ Why would Harry say such a thing? Was Severus being alive and not-quite-well enough for the boy in all actuality? Did he love Severus enough that the Potions Master's existence would satiate him?

"_It will be soon. And I know you are strong enough to live through what is left."_ Harry had been lying out of his teeth. He had meant well, but Severus—even while emotionally disoriented—knew Harry had been stalling, keeping something from him. There was that nagging feeling in the back of his mind again, telling him that he had forgotten something important.

"_No. Just thought I would keep up with the Wizarding World for once in my life."_ That was the last piece of bullshit that Harry had told him, while reading the Daily Prophet. Severus realized what the boy had been doing in hindsight—searching for news in terms of the War. That had been what had led The-Boy-Who-Lived in the foolish direction of attempting _Legimency_ on Sirius Black, of all people.

"_You should have done this before, Harry; there's nothing in here—much like in that head of yours—to obstruct it."_ That comment, originally referring to the inadequate size of Harry's bed, brought back the memories of being in Harry's room—of the emptiness in it. He remembered thinking, _Why is there nothing in here?_ Aside from the shelves on the walls and Hedwig's cage in the window, the room had been bare—even the suitcase, which most likely had held Harry's other things—

Severus stopped thinking, his eyes widening in realization. _Even the suitcase…_

…_the suitcase…_

Pieces of Harry's speech came to the surface of his mind.

"_You survived the War, Severus."_

"…_how the society what survived the War…"_

Harry himself had resolved that everyone else would survive, and he would not.

"You bloody idiot!!" Was the first thing that Severus Snape said that morning, throwing himself from his bed at record speed to magically dress himself. The Potions Master had told him, and Draco, in plain English, almost two weeks ago, when both Slytherins had visited Harry's room. The room had been riddled with items of personal value back then—why hadn't Severus noticed it before?

When Draco had asked Harry about his endeavors while at Hogwarts, the Gryffindor had said openly, _"I am doing nothing but waiting until the last two loyal Death Eaters are spotted in definite locations." _

The Professor left his chambers while still gathering his thoughts. _"But Lucius…he will be caught, and he will die. Then you can move on. You'll have your vengeance. You won't have to wait much longer…"_ Why had he missed those signs? Why had he dismissed them as mere ramblings from a War-worn Harry?

"_Don't…don't leave."_

"_I have to; I have to go…"_

Oh, gods; the boy was gone already. He'd left already, like the stupid Gryffindor he was. Severus knew it, in the bottom of his heart, even before he reached the boy's room; before he blasted the locked door open with an angry flick of his wand; before he found the room completely bare.

Nothing had been left. Not even Hedwig.

"What…what have you done…?" Severus asked weakly. He spun on his heel and left.

(scene shift)

**July 19, Wednesday, MORNING, 2000**

He had gathered them all. Hermione, Lupin—Severus had tried to find, Draco, but could not—and Sirius, as well as Minerva, in Dumbledore's Office. There was no way that any of this could have happened under Dumbledore's nose. What Severus wanted to know was why Dumbledore hadn't stopped the boy.

Entering his Office dressed in deep blue robes, Dumbledore started at the number of guests in his office, most of whom were still rubbing sleep from their eyes. Lupin looked particularly worn—disheveled, with robes and hair askew—Hermione looked thoughtful, as though she was trying to figure things out. Sirius looked murderous—Severus had deemed it necessary to tell the ex-prisoner that this affair involved Harry to get him out of bed.

"What is all of this about?" Dumbledore asked wearily. He sounded innocent—almost like a child.

Hermione shrugged. "Severus woke me, and said that something was horribly wrong."

Lupin sighed sadly, burying his face in his hands. Severus read the Lycanthrope in an instant. "You _knew_, Lupin?"

"Knew what?" Sirius growled. "That Draco Malfoy is a bastard?"

"Is there a point to this commotion, Severus?" Minerva asked.

"Remus!" Severus growled. "why didn't you say _anything_? _They could die!_" The look on Lupin's face that he was already aware of that.

"This had to do with Harry, right?" Hermione said, "So why is Lupin involved?"

Many voices rose at once: Minerva _demanding_ answers from Severus; Severus demanding the same from Lupin; Sirius growling about Draco and Hermione trying to make sense of it all. Dumbledore raised a hand silently, and it was enough to quiet the entire room.

Then the Headmaster spoke. "I know of what Severus is speaking. It will clear up everyone's misunderstandings. Severus, Harry came to see you a day and a half ago, yes? After you spoke to me concerning Sirius's recovery?" Severus nodded with caution. He did not like that Dumbledore knew that piece of information; it gave way to the logic that Dumbledore knew _everything_ about his relationship with the boy.

"Remus Lupin," he said next, "Draco went to see you the morning after our discussion. "Yesterday."

Lupin nodded, avoiding Severus's eyes. _You knew! And you didn't say a word! Not a bloody word to me!! _If looks could kill, Lupin would have died three times over.

Dumbledore sighed, adjusting his half-moon spectacles. "Sirius, Hermione, as you two have no clue what is going on, I will tell you—but the news is bittersweet." He paused. "Yesterday, at eleven thirty a.m., the Aurors of the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain discovered the location of both Lucius Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, as well as their escapee comrade from Azkaban, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Sirius flinched.

"No," Hermione said, looking around the room. "You didn't tell Harry, did you? You can't! He'll—"

"Harry is already gone. And, apparently, so has the younger Malfoy." Severus said angrily.

"Why didn't you stop them?" Hermione almost screamed at Dumbledore. "Why didn't you tell them no?"

"He had no right," Sirius said. "They left for the same reason I went after Bellatrix when Lucius and Blaise entered Azkaban. It's personal."

"You could have told them no." Severus said, his anger penetrating his voice. "It is that simple." How could the man he trusted—had trusted for years—with his life, how could he let the only person that Severus had a modicum of feeling for simply walk toward his death?

"Severus," Dumbledore began calmly. "It was a matter—"

"YOU COULD HAVE SAID NO!!!" roared Severus, and the room fell quiet. His breathing quickened in the silence, and he couldn't believe himself. It took a moment to reign his emotions back in. No one spoke to the Headmaster in that fashion. What was wrong with him?

He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Lupin, who looked at him with understanding. "You should've seen what I did to my office," he said softly, with a weak smile.

"They were hidden under the Fidelius Charm," Dumbledore began. "They were only trackable because Bellatrix was not a part of it. They're hidden…Severus?" The Potions Master had turned away from the crowd, walking towards the exit. "Severus…" Dumbledore called again.

"I cannot idly stand by and listen to you after you sent Harry to his death, with Draco Malfoy, no less. You disappoint me, Albus. I feel that if Harry does not return safely…I can no longer trust you."

Minerva said loudly, "How dare you—"

Severus Snape shut the door behind him.

_**Gently moistened by the quiet rain**_

_**Looking for something in exchange for that**_

_**I lose my love.**__—Weiss "Beautiful Alone"_

_

* * *

  
_

A/N: First of all, thanks to my beta reader Lady Emerald Black.

I like this chapter, because Severus actually dares to be angry at Albus, something that I don't think anyone has ever done in the Headmaster's later years. Not necessarily that he's always deserved it, but the fact that someone can call Dumbledore out on his fault is good. He DOES have faults, and he sometimes--especially in this story--tries to point them out, but no one really listens...


	22. Chapter 22

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: ** Flames of War

_**Their vacant smiles disappear**_

_**That moment is my happiest**_

_**I'll see them suffer all alone**_

_**Small but deadly, ne?**__—Weiss, "Mayfly"_

**July 19, Wednesday, NIGHT, 2000**

_There were flames engulfing the House, and I openly cried. This was my home, and I could do nothing about it. They fought us hard, and matched us blow for blow as they ran, Lucius and Blaise shouting obscenities. The lesser Aurors with us had already fled. Good. I would no longer be responsible for their deaths._

"_You will regret betraying me!" Blaise shouted, looking over his shoulder. "why did you join that bloody Gryffindork?"_

"_Hogwarts is over, Blaise!" Draco retorted loudly, following after him. "Stop being such a child!" Draco hurled a curse at him. Blaise blocked it. _

_Bellatrix threw one at me. I sidestepped and she screamed, "You put me in Azkaban!" Lucius said nothing; the other two were protecting him. Was he wounded? I couldn't tell._

_Luna was behind me; Dumbledore had brought her along. The songs that Lupin had taught her would strengthen our magic, he had told us. We were protecting her. There were other Aurors with us, too, despite the ones who had run away. I had ordered them to salvage anything that they could from the burning house. Some of them were keeping the flames from spreading._

"_Harry!" Draco cried out, "they're trying to cast the spell…" My eyes narrowed. They were just biding their time._

"_**Avada Kedavra!**__" I screamed, desperate. The green light approached Blaise, but he moved, and it missed as Bellatrix pulled Lucius away._

"_Harry!" Draco yelled, appalled._

"_They should die!" I replied, dodging a stun charm from Bellatrix._

"_Luna, start stinging a hymn!" Draco yelled._

"_Which one?" She asked frantically, keeping her eye on the three wizards in front of us._

"_What do you use for protection?"_

"_Kyrie!"_

"_Then sing that one, dammit!" he ordered._

_I could feel the magic Lucius was gathering even as Luna began to sing._

"_**Osi usti meditabitur…sapientiam…**__" Luna sang softly._

_Suddenly, the three of them stopped running, turning to face us. Lucius moved to the fore front of the trio, handing Blaise a small object before shouting to Draco, "You dare challenge me?" The sky was dark, and the fire in the house—__**my**__ house—behind them seemed to accentuate his words._

_Bellatrix moved behind both Death Eaters; she began to sing, as well, her voice dark and malicious as a Dementor's stare. "__**If you are near to the dark, I will tell you 'bout the sun…"**__ Her voice was hard and proud, and she sang loudly. Apparently, Lucius had been one step before us as far as magic went as well. How did the bastard know?_

_Draco ignored his father. "Blaise, what the hell is wrong with you?!"_

_I addressed Lucius. "Do you know how many people you've hurt? How many families you've broken?"_

"_They hurt themselves," he roared over the singing of both women, hurling a stunning charm and then an immobilizing charm._

"_Stay!" Draco yelled, and both spells seemed to bounce off of an invisible barrier. I looked back at Luna and smiled._

"_What about Severus?" I yelled to Lucius. "You destroyed everything he ever was—what he could have been!" I thought about him, how much I loved him, how I would kill this bastard. Lucius faltered, and Luna and Bellatrix's voices mixed with the flames._

"_**Kyrie…ignus divine eleison…**__" Luna sang._

"_**But you can't see the sun ever in the darkness…**__" Bellatrix bellowed._

"_You know nothing about Severus Snape! Nothing!"_

"_I know a lot!" I said. "I know that you hurt him more deeply than anyone else! I know that you meant the world to him and you threw him away!" Draco looked at me and Blaise hurled a hex that bounced off of the shield that Luna's singing had summoned. The flames seemed to be pulling closer—no, they were forming another shield for us. I reached to the flames in awe; they didn't burn._

"_What did you leave him for, Lucius?" I screamed. "For this? FOR THIS?"_

_Lucius looked me in the eyes, and I shivered. He laughed—hard—and Draco readied his wand to attack._

"_How is that a brat like you came close enough to Severus to know? How is it that he aligns himself with a filthy half-blood lover? That irritating, pompous—"_

"_SHUT UP!!" I yelled; and the Lucius was on the ground. My silent stunning charm had hit him before I had even known I had cast it. Immediately, I ran to that bastard and cast an immobilizing charm. I expected Blaise or Bellatrix to hex me but they didn't; Blaise was shouting at Draco, who was throwing curses and telling me to come back__** now**__. Bellatrix kept singing; her and Luna's song were repeating over now._

_I picked up Lucius's wand and snapped it in half, and I did not hesitate to stab him in his upper left shoulder with both pieces. He couldn't move to writhe in pain, and he shouted instead. That was when Blaise turned, but Draco yelled a sleeping spell and Blaise had to dodge. With Draco distracting him, I was sure I was covered; I had snapped, like when Ron had been hit with the Cruciatus Curse—except I remember every detail._

_The thought of Ron spurred me to take me vengeance, and I yelled, "__**Crucio!**__" before I could even stop myself. But I enjoyed it, enjoyed torturing him as he writhed-without-writhing, stuck on the ground with his pain trapped in his mind._

"_Harry!" I heard vaguely, but I did not listen. I was taking my revenge!_

_I stopped the torture for a moment, and I smiled wickedly at Lucius. "You took Blaise from Draco—"_

"_Lucius—" Blaise yelled._

"_SHUT UP!" I roared, "Unless you want Cruciatus cast on you, too!" he was helpless, since he was fighting Draco and Bellatrix was stuck singing. I punched Lucius in the face the hardest that I had ever hit anyone. He fell unconscious, blood running from his nose. I tutted at him, and growled, "__**Crucio!**__ You don't get to sleep through this, Lucius!" He regained consciousness in pain, coughing up more blood with his screams before I ceased. I looked at Blaise; he was fingering the object that Lucius had given him—an amulet. It was glowing._

"_You hurt Ron," I said simply. He looked into my eyes, and flinched in fear. "You almost killed him."_

"_**Petrificus Totalus!**__" I heard, and instinctively took a step back as the magic flew past me from Draco's direction. Blaise leapt back, too, and the spell glided towards Bellatrix. She stopped singing to dodge, and Luna's voice, though quiet, was the only thing I heard._

"_**O quam sancta, o quam serena, quam benigma, quam amoena, ocastitas lilium…**__"_

"_Blaise, now!" Bellatrix cried. She tried to reach Lucius. Draco hurled another curse. Blaise looked at me, and hesitated. I took it as an opportunity, and cast, a disarming charm, but I knew that Blaise was dangerous even without his wand._

"_Harry," he said, "I didn't –"_

"_SHUT UP! Save it for someone who cares! Wait, you don't have anyone else like that now that you've lost Draco, do you?"_

"_I did not lose Draco. He's here," Blaise said more to himself than me. "He cares. He came."_

"_Draco loves Remus," I said, taking some sick delight in sharing the news. "He's here to kill you." Even Bellatrix seemed appalled at my words. _

"_**Stupefy!**__" Draco yelled, and this time the spell hit home. Bellatrix went sprawling. She didn't get back up._

"_Harry!" I heard a voice, and two Aurors stepped from the flames, each rushing to restrain Blaise. The amulet stayed around his neck. "Are you all right?" The voice floating to him was an Auror that he was very familiar with; Nymphadora Tonks._

"_Let go of me!" Blaise cried. Tonks and her partner ignored him. I scrambled to him and pointed my wand at his chest._

"_Harry?" Tonks called. Luna stopped singing._

"_I'm not through with him," I growled._

"_Harry, put the bloody wand down!" Draco voice, from behind, told me. "Don't kill him."_

"_Why shouldn't I? He hurt you."_

"_Harry…"_

_I ignored him. "__**Crucio**__." I said, and Blaise jerked in their arms, fighting the pain._

"_Harry!" Draco cried, "Stop!" He shoved me, and as my eye contact with Blaise broke, so did the curse._

"_Harry, what is wrong with you?" Tonks asked. "Leave them all to the Ministry."_

_Blaise smiled wearily, and whispered, his breaths heaving. "Draco…I knew you still loved me—"_

"_Make no mistake," Draco said, his voice taking on an iciness I had only heard in Lucius. "I do not love you—I only want the satisfaction of seeing you sentenced to the Dementor's kiss."_

"_Blaise…" we heard weakly. It was Bellatrix. Draco spun away from us and hit her with an immobilizing spell._

_But Blaise whispered to himself in some strange language, looking at the amulet, "__**In mea manu**__—"_

"_Take the amulet off!" Luna yelled, racing towards us. She began to sing, loud and frantic once more, the Kyrie, and again I felt the barrier form although I couldn't see it._

_But Blaise continued. "__**ens inimicum edat!**__"_

_Draco ran to meet Luna, pulling me with him. We weren't going to make it. Blaise locked eyes with me, and I was rooted to the spot. "__**A Vi Ci**__." He said._

_There was a flash of purple light, and I heard mingled voices shouting different spells around me._

"_**Protego!**__"_

"_**Avada Kedavra**__!" _

_And Luna breaking into song, "__**Birtus virqi suffert…**__"_

_The lights of all of this magic flashed at once, and I was hit by something—something heavy, and I felt myself falling away…and I thought…I thought, of all things…_

_Severus Snape…sleep without nightmares tonight._

(scene shift)

**July 23, Sunday, MORNING, 2000**

"…_Severus Snape…sleep without nightmares tonight."_

He stirred, realizing what he had just said. Why…why would he say something like that?

…where was he?

He expected to be injured. He opened his eyes quite easily, moved his arms and legs. Opening his eyes, he heard a sharp scream in his ear. What was going on?

"Ron! Ron! Oh, Ron! He's awake!! Thanks the gods you're alive!!"

_**Gaze into the flames of blue, all my memories to view**_

_**The rain comes pouring down like stinging needs falling from the sky.**_

_**Who was it that screamed in fear? Who was it that dreamed in tears?**_

_**I hear the voices but the faces have been washed away for years…**__--Weiss, "It's too late"_

_

* * *

  
_

A/N: There's lots of stuff to talk about with this chapter. First, as always, I would like to thank my beta reader, Lady Emerald Black, for her terrific work.

Okay, second, I wanted to announce that the two songs being sung during the battle are "Lilium", the opening theme of the anime Serial Experiments Lain, and "Aura", a song from the anime ".Hack//sign". That's exactly how it's spelled in the quotations, ladies and gentlemen. Do you think that I should list the lyrics? They're very easy to look up.

The translation for the words that Blaise spoke in this chapter are forthcoming in the next, so I'm not going to ruin it for you 3

In any case, I like the cliffhanger from this chapter. What's this have to do with Ron? You'll see in the next chapter. I know that there's a lot of possibilities, but I'm willing to see what you guys can come up with.


	23. Chapter 23

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Twenty-Three: ** From Darkness to Death

_**This rain that washes pain away, this rain that blows the flames away**_

_**And let's the dreamers dream of songs to sing, release the life**_

_**And takes my tears, keeps them oh-so-far at bay**_

_**Until love fades away, until love fades away…**__ --"It's Too Late"_

**July 23, Sunday, Morning, 2000**

Hermione had almost fainted. Ron was alive! ALIVE!! She began to cry almost immediately leaping upon him.

He began to smile as he recognized her. "Is this what Harry feels like when he wakes up from being a bloody hero?" Ron asked, his brows furrowed in thought. " 'Mione? It is you, right?"

"Yes, of course!" she replied. "What happened?"

"You could tell me better than I could."

She was ecstatic! "Well, you were—and we thought you—but now—" she found herself unable to even finish her sentences. All of this just seemed like a dream. She hoped she never woke up if it was.

Ron raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Hermione! Please, I need to speak to Severus Snape."

"…why…?" _Why would Ron want to talk to Severus, of all people, when he woke up?_

"There…I had a dream before I woke up. I think…Harry had a message for him."

Hermione frowned. "Marry me," she said. She had heard what Ron said, but none of that was important to her at that moment. Ron was alive, and well, and his old self. He wasn't a traitor, he didn't hate her, and Hermione felt as though he would slip away from her if she let him take two steps on his own without her. She had devoted seven months to this, to getting him better, and now he was here. He had left her, stranded and not sure what to think of anything when he joined the Death Eaters. Could she really pass up this opportunity? She might not get it again.

"What?" Ron answered.

"I told myself that whenever you woke up, I wouldn't waste time. Marry me."

Ron looked so confused. "Wait. I need to see someone who can tell me what's happened since I was injured. Seriously, 'Mione…I've been gone a long time, haven't I?"

"Two years since you left me. Half a year since you've been unconscious. Your mother and I…and Ginny…we've been watching you non-stop!"

"Where's Harry? Who's dead? Who's not?"

These were not the kinds of questions Hermione was expecting Ron to ask when he woke up. "Wait. Ron—"

"Hermione, I need to know."

Hermione flinched a bit. This was so different, so…not Ron. She hadn't expected him to be so serious upon his return. It was almost as though he hadn't been unconscious at all. "Yes. I will take you to Snape. He's been in his dungeons for the past five days, almost a week. He—Harry…I don't know, but he's upset about it. He'll explain. He is the only one who knows it all from the Last Battle. I can't remember so much." She still thought it was a strange request for a patient who had just woken up after almost seven months. But Hermione obliged, "We'll have to sneak. If anyone sees you, I'll get it for not telling everyone you woke up."

Ron nodded, and searched his robes for his wand. It was in his left pocket--near his heart--where Hermione had found it when they captured his body. "Thanks," he said. He cast an invisibility spell on himself and Hermione. She took his hand.

He was jittery; he was anxious about everything. Every rounded corner, he pounced. "Relax, you're in Hogwarts. There's no need for this. Not here." At first, it seemed as though Ron was going to object; but he seemed to reason that Hogwarts _was_ the one location Voldemort had not invaded. He relaxed; she could feel it. It did not take long before they reached the dungeons. Hermione pounded on the door, knowing that the Professor was deep inside.

"I have no need to speak with anyone. Get yourself, whomever you are, from my vicinity." His voice sounded so cold. So lifeless.

"Professor, it's—"

"Ah. Ms. Granger," said the voice, apparently, recognizing hers. "Why don't you go back to your living corpse? Why must you bother me? I don't enjoy your company; I never have, and—"

"What if she told you," Ron said plainly, "that the living corpse was right here?"

Silence. In a matter of seconds, the door was opened, and there stood Severus, disheveled, unkempt, and three times more scary than usual, with a new feature: an insane, murderous glint in his eyes. It was eerie, and it sent a shiver up Hermione's spine. They stared at each other, Ron and Snape, for what seemed like hours before the Potions Master asked with a weary sigh, "Why are you here?"

"'Mione says," Ron answered stiffly, "That I've been out seven months. I need to know what happened. No sugar or secrets. And, I think…I have a message for you from Harry."

Snape's eyes seemed to perk up, but he asked guardedly, "How do you know that this is really Granger?"

Hermione felt put out. "How dare you ask such a—"

"When I woke up," Ron said, "she asked me to marry her." Hermione blushed.

Snape's demeanor broke for a moment, and he said, "That is sufficient. Enter."

Ron said sharply, "The Lady comes along."

Snape sniffed. "She may never repeat a word of what she hears."

"I will see to it."

Hermione was flabbergasted. How could they speak on her like she wasn't there? This was not like Ron. This was not the Ron she remembered. She didn't like this Ron—this new, _Death Eater_ Ron. Nonetheless, Ron pulled her inside, and the door shut behind them.

The dungeon room was stereotypically dark, candles placed throughout the rooms to make it barely visible. Ron sat on a couch, pulling Hermione down with him. But she refused, she would not let these men dictate her every whim; she moved to sit across from Severus's velvet chair, in a leather one. As she made to seat herself, she head Severus roar, "DO _NOT_ SIT IN THAT CHAIR!"

Frightened, Hermione moved hastily back to her space next to Ron. Had Snape gone off his rocker?

"Not in the best shape, are you Severus?" Ron asked, using the Professor's first name for the first time without hesitation. "Do you yell at all women these days?"

Snape looked away. "I am not…as you can see." He poured himself a glass of wine, taking a large swig. "I apologize for my rudeness. You may sit where you wish, Ms. Granger."

Hermione had not realized she was being spoken to until she heard her name. She shook her head; she did not want to be yelled at again.

Snape turned to Ron after a moment. "How do you find your recovery?"

"Restless," Ron replied. "I feel like I've overslept. I'm energized."

"Good. I will not waste time," Severus said. "I imagine you've only just—"

"Yes. 'Mione snuck me here. I could hear Harry…as I woke up. He really wanted to me to tell you—"

"I shall go first," Snape decided. "I am afraid I will not be well enough to tell it if I hear your message first. You must promise me, Ronald Weasley, that I will hear your story later."

"My word," Ron said, and pulled back his robes to reveal his Dark Mark. Hermione flinched; it was black, but glowed green even in the candlelight. Hermione did not think she should have been there.

As though he read her mind, "Severus said, "you might as well stay, Ms. Granger. This information concerns Harry to some large degree." Ron nodded. "Your last memory, no doubt," he began, "is your legendary betrayal of Voldemort, when you disarmed him. After doing so, Harry cast the Killing Curse, and it was over. Lucius fled immediately; so did the other Death Eaters. Blaise Zabini was the only one who remained, and he—"

"He hexed Ron!" Hermione burst.

Severus looked at her pointedly. "Yes, he hit you with Cruciatus. You were in pain, and Harry fought Blaise, but the curse continued. I stepped in the way, and the last thing I remember is seeing the look on Harry's face. It was _murderous_. Deliciously so. More evil than I had ever seen from Voldemort—"

"I felt it," Ron said, "While I was asleep. I didn't know what it was. I…"

"It's fine," Severus said. "Tell me after. Ms. Granger will aid in the next part, as I was unconscious from the Cruciatus myself."

Ron looked at Hermione. "I…I saw Harry glare at Blaise," she began, surprised that they would ask her for details, "and he said, in the most dreadful voice I've ever heard, '_Run,'_ he said, _'so that I can hunt you down like the animal you are. I will find you. And you will die, Blaise Zabini.'_ Blaise apparated, and Harry walked away. I called to him, but he kept walking, and he was healing you two, so…"

Severus caught the cue, and he continued. "The Ministry captured twenty-two of the remaining Death Eaters. They were reported in the Daily Prophet as emergency updates as they were brought in."

"What about Harry? What happened?" Ron asked.

"Ms. Granger," Severus nodded toward her, a sign that she should speak again.

"It was scary," Hermione said. "It was at least three in the morning. Harry knocked at the gates; he scared everyone. I had been worried about him—talking to Draco, actually—"

"I heard from Blaise that he joined you," Ron said. It wasn't a question.

"People began to whisper, saying that Harry was back. We rushed to greet him. Dumbledore got there first. He was wet, and his eyes were red from crying over Ron. But he still looked…murderous. Dumbledore asked if he was okay. And Harry said no. Pomfrey asked if he needed to go to the infirmary. He said no, and went to bed."

"Four days later," Severus said, picking up the story again, "the same day that I awoke, the Ministry questioned Harry. They found six bodies, each dead. Later we found that he killed nine. He does not remember what he did to the others. I have spoken to him many times about it since then."

Hermione was indeed shocked to hear this. "But when did you—"

"There are a lot of things that you don't know, Granger," Snape said. "Harry does not tell you everything. In any case—"

"Why would Harry tell you and not Hermione?" Ron demanded.

Severus faltered. "We hardly have time for—"

"Severus."

The Potions Master looked uncomfortable. "Harry and I…have repaired previously burned bridges."

The scrutinizing look that Ron gave Snape was unlike anything Hermione had ever seen from him.

Snape's eyes glided to Hermione, and he deliberately coughed. "Ms. Granger…this may come as a shock for you. But Harry and I were involved in a relationship."

"What kind?" Hermione asked innocently. Ron burst into laughter. Severus smirked. When Hermione had finally understood, she cried, "Oh my! When did this happen? How—"

"Under your nose," Snape said coldly, and with a note of finality.

"But—"

"Leave it, 'Mione," Ron said, still laughing. She fell quiet, and listened to a vague description of Snape's and Harry's ideals, how Harry had helped Sirius, and how Snape felt like a general idiot about not having seen the boy's plan before he enacted it.

"He came to tell me goodbye," the Professor said sighing, "and I didn't realize it. I had been brooding—he had told me to stop, and I did not, and he left…Draco did, as well. Remus is in shambles. Completely. We will only speak to each other."

"When did Harry leave?" Ron asked.

"Five days ago."

"Dumbledore let them both leave?"

"Yes," Snape said, through gritted teeth.

Hermione had never seen him so upset. "He told Dumbledore," she said quietly, "that if Harry did not come back safely, he would never trust Dumbledore again."

Surprising Hermione, Ron smiled and said, "That hard, huh, Severus? I didn't think you were the type."

"Nor did I," Severus Snape, the Head of Slytherin said. His next words were legendary, and proved that people did indeed change.

"I did not think I was capable of falling in love, either."

Ron shook his head. "His message, it was… 'Severus Snape…sleep without nightmares tonight'."

This comment seemed to take its toll on the Professor. Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that Harry would be alright, but Ron shook his head, effectively silencing her.

"Thank you for sharing your tale with me," Ron said. "I will be correct in assuming you want to be alone now, I know. After all, I must speak to Dumbledore."

"Thank you…" Severus returned absently, turning away from them both. "Thank you for seeing me first."

Hermione felt like crying as she rose to leave. What had happened to everyone?

_**People are like roses…**__--"Stone Roses" _

_

* * *

_Not the greatest chapter, but only because I'm not quite a Hermione fan. Her chapters are always more informational than anything else...


	24. Chapter 24

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Twenty-Four:** Struggling to Heal

_**In the distant past, an ancient sky, an angel had appeared**_

_**Sword of David was in his hand, with it, divided god and hell**_

_**And he smiled on the world as it began to break away**_

_**So here I stand to slash the smile,**_

_**So here I stand to say goodbye…**__--"Piece of Heaven"_

**July 23, Sunday, Morning, 2000**

Draco lost himself frequently in Harry's blank, dull green eyes. He was nothing but a shell now, made to follow orders.

In the end, when it was all over. Blaise still won, even in death. He had cast the activation spell from the amulet onto Harry. Harry had, for some reason, known about Lucius's qualms with Severus Snape. How such a thing was made possible when the Professor trusted no one was beyond Draco's comprehension. But The Boy Who Lived's revenge upon Lucius Malfoy had been utterly devastating, and even now Draco's father was curled in his cell in Azkaban, muttering about "the eyes of blood and murder". Indeed, Harry's eyes had spoken of his true rage--of his true magical potential--and it was frightening; in another time, under different circumstances, Harry could have been the next Dark Lord. Harry had, for lack of the better description, beaten the living shit out of the Death Eater. Harry had snapped Lucius's wand, immobilized him and tortured him with Crucio. Draco had never heard his father cry out in such pain. Never. And Lucius trained weekly, as far as Draco knew, to resist the Cruciatus and Imperious curses. Harry had knocked Lucius unconscious, only to revive him with Cruciatus once more.

Draco clamped his eyes shut. He couldn't bear to look into those lifeless eyes anymore. Where had the monster inside of Harry come from? Draco shivered as he tried to imagine what Harry had done to the three missing Death Eaters in that state.

And when he spoke to Blaise! Draco had heard him say, clearly, "_Draco loves Remus. He's here to kill you_." Draco had seen the insane smile creep upon Harry's features, heard the laughter in Harry's voice. Harry had been cruel. Harry had been merciless. Even Tonks had been surprised. Even Bellatrix. Draco had even tried to stop Harry when he cast Crucio on Blaise, as well. But Harry ignored him.

_Funny,_ he thought to himself, _when you were the one who ended up killing him._

Luna had tried to warn them when Blaise had begun the activation spell. She had tried to protect them as well, with her song, the Kyrie. But Draco knew Latin, ironically, taught to him by his father, and he knew exactly what Blaise said word for word. _Spring forth from my hand and throttle my enemy in an endless Hell._

And Draco agreed full heartedly; for that must've been what Harry was going through. Immediately after the curse—it was shrouded in a purple evil that Draco had never before in a spell—hit Harry, Draco had killed Blaise without hesitation. Tonks had screamed her protection charm. Luna sang louder. But it was too late. Harry had already been hit.

And as he fell to the ground, unconscious, Draco heard him say clearly, "Severus Snape…sleep without nightmares tonight…" And then the light faded from his eyes.

There was a knock on the door. Draco blinked, and saw that once more his grey eyes were connected with Harry's green ones.

Dumbledore entered with haste, the expression on his face a perfect portrayal of what Draco's emotions were. How could so much happen in one night?

"Ronald Weasley awoke last night." The words were solemn, not as happy as they should have been.

"Wonderful," Draco said dryly. "I suppose Granger is happy."

"Very. From your and Hermione's reports, Ronald came back to us nearly as Harry slipped away…"

"Hm."

"…Draco." Dumbledore called. "I am thinking…of stepping down from my post as Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Draco's eyes finally snapped to focus and attention, staring straight into Dumbledore's crystal blue eyes. "No, you can't!"

"Why not? I have proved my inexplicable behavior as a leader figure."

"No, you haven't. You sent Harry and I to kill the most notorious wizard since Voldemort."

"And injured the light of the Wizarding world in the process."

Draco looked shocked. Had everyone gone off their rockers during his absence? "_You_ are the light of this world, Dumbledore! _You_ are what defines good and evil! You must know that. To lose you after Harry will leave the world in pieces!"

"Lupin nor Snape have spoken to me since they discovered I allowed you two to leave. In the worst case scenario, Severus will never trust me again, after this incident with Harry."

"_Severus Snape_ is worried about _Harry_?"

"You will be surprised, young Malfoy, what sorts of things develop under your nose."

Draco shook his head free of all of the questions he wanted to ask. He would inquire about Snape later. "Once I am back with Lupin, he will speak to you. Remus would speak to you regardless. He knows that it was a difficult decision."

Dumbledore sighed. "I cannot say the same for Severus."

_Just what exactly did Harry do for Severus, or vice versa?_ Draco ignored the question that popped up, once more, in his mind. Instead, he asked, "Have you looked at the research we salvaged from Godric's Hollow?"

"Yes. It was a miracle that Harry ordered the Aurors with you both away; Lucius likes victims. But with only you, Harry and Luna…" it seemed like Dumbledore was contemplating how things would have gone if there were more people present, and he trailed off. "In all cases, the research the others found addresses the nature of the spell, but not its purpose. From the Auror reports, Lucius was not planning on losing the house. He wanted to keep this information. Without it I doubt that he could cast his spell more than once. I am personally placing myself in charge of reversing it; finding the curing spell—or moreover—creating it. The problem is that we do not have the magical theories from which Lucius derived this curse. Nor is there any record of where Voldemort found his initial research. Most likely, the Dark Lord destroyed it in an attempt to keep the credit."

"The activation was easy enough. I heard it. It was only words in pure Latin."

"Yes. The amulet was bewitched to release magic by those words beforehand. Please allow me to assert that those words could have been anything."

A thought lodged itself firmly in Draco's mind. "If you're in charge of creating the countercurse, how will you run Hogwarts?"

"Therein lies the main reason for my resignation."

"Why don't you just…take an urgent leave of absence, like you did in the War to officially close down Hogwarts as a school?"

"I am not sure that I would return this time."

"…Harry would want it!" Draco was grasping now, for reasons why Dumbledore shouldn't leave. But the Headmaster seemed to have an answer for everything. "After you cure him, do you really think Harry would want to return to a Hogwarts without Albus Dumbledore?"

"Draco, that is the problem with becoming a hero; no one will want to live without you. Harry understands that. And if he knows it is my desire to stay resigned, he will support me."

"And is that what you want?" Draco sighed. Would that really be how Harry felt? No wonder her occasionally snapped and became a murderous beast. But to counter the point that was just made, he said, "Headmaster—my ONLY Headmaster, as far as I'm concerned, there are worst fates to be destined for than simply being a hero."

"Yes. That I am sure of…"

They remained there in a moment of understanding silence before Dumbledore said. "I will leave Fawkes to watch over you all. It is not as though none of you will see me, but in the event that something pressing occurs, he will alert me. Do you think that will be enough presence for you?"

Was that a sarcastic remark from Dumbledore? No, Draco couldn't fathom it.

"I think it will be," the Slytherin replied. A pause, and then, "No one has told me what the full effect of the finished spell will be. What it _is_. What have they done to him?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry. "The worst possible. They created a spell that would do exactly what they wanted. To…to create a mindless slave, one locked in their own memories and unable to fight back or resist."

Draco gasped, eyes snapping to Harry. But nothing happened. Harry simply laid there, eyes open, always open; they had never closed once in the five days they had been in St. Mungo's. Not once; they resisted even magical coercion.

"How…? But Blaise, the castor is—"

"Dead. But Draco, whose power filled the amulet with magic?"

"…Lucius!" Draco stood immediately.

"Sit down, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said calmly. "It will do no good. It will do no good. I interrogated your father myself; he still believes that Harry resisted the curse due to Blaise's death, and I am not going to dissuade him of that opinion. His notes indicate that if the curse functions properly, Harry would be awake and searching for Lucius. The incantation takes several minutes; he put intricate instructions for the curse's effect. Harry will ultimately die if a Master for this curse is not found."

Draco was flabbergasted. How could his own father create a curse that would do this to anyone? What if it had hit Draco and not Harry? The surprise and devastation evident in his voice, he said, "Can you…can you remedy that part of the curse?"

Dumbledore removed his glasses, and Draco saw the bags under the old man's eyes. Why hadn't he noticed them before? "I cannot." he sighed. "With this limited exposure to the curse, I can only reactivate it. It will require a bit of blood magic, but I can reassign the target of who controls the curse."

"You can change who controls Harry…?"

"Yes. But that is all that I can do for now. I would rather transfer the magic than leave it to your father. When Lucius realizes that Harry was indeed cursed, he will use that opportunity to the best of his abilities. And considering Harry's status over the Wizarding World, that will be quite a bit of influence. Potentially, Harry could free Lucius from Azkaban."

Draco held himself back from cringing. "…let me do it. I'll take on the curse. I'm Harry's closest friend right now. We did this together, and—"

Dumbledore shook his head. "You will have your hands full with Remus. Your lover has missed you dearly."

Draco blushed involuntarily. "Yes, but—"

"I will entrust him to someone who will care for him more so than anyone else."

Draco's eyes widened as he saw the look in the Headmaster's eyes. "No. You wouldn't dare."

The blue eyes, despite their weariness, twinkled. "I would. It will be…a parting gift, one could say, as I take my leave from Hogwarts."

"Severus Snape. You're going to give Harry to Severus." The words were said in disbelief.

"He needs it, don't you think?" The Headmaster's eyes twinkled somehow brighter.

That one phrase brought back memories. When Harry had first spoken to Draco about having breakfast with Snape almost two weeks ago, he was told that Snape remarked that Harry "needs it". Draco had agreed. Perhaps it was now the Head of Slytherin's turn. "Yes," Draco said with conviction.

"Then it is settled." A pause. "Draco…you should go see Remus. He is worried sick."

Draco sighed. "I do not know if I am ready. Harry…"

"Does not need you right now. Remus does. Excuse me for intruding, but…I think Remus has shed enough tears over the past few days—and nights…"

Draco swore under his breath, standing. The Headmaster knew he could be persuasive when he wanted to be. "Alright, Dumbledore. I can take a hint."

With a thoughtful expression, one that was not at all associated with the weariness that he had seen before, the older wizard said, "I think it is time for you to call me Albus. Yes, I believe I would like that."

"…Albus? It…will take adjusting…" Draco played with the idea in his head. "I suppose I could try." It was a great privilege to be asked of such a thing by the Headmaster himself.

"I am sure that you will put all of yourself into the task, Mister Malfoy."

With a superior smirk, Draco said, "Why don't you call me Draco?"

Albus looked surprised. "I'm your elder—I can call you what suits you best." The color drained from Draco's face. Dumbledore—Albus—laughed, and added, "It was a joke, Draco. A joke."

Draco's pale face was red before he left the room.

_**Never forgotten, never forgotten**_

_**Doesn't have a name; no way to describe**_

_**Someday, still, two lovers believe they'll find themselves again**__—"Mellow Candle"_


	25. Chapter 25

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Twenty-Five:** Warm Hands, Cold Heart

_**That's enough, I cried**_

_**That's enough, I cried**_

_**That person alone**_

_**Was my…my smile**__ –"Stone Roses"_

**July 23, Sunday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

"Albus, I do not want to see you. Not until Harry returns." Severus's words were sharp and cold, directed at the man whose actions had allowed Harry to march toward his death.

"Harry has returned," Albus said, frowning as he gave Severus a serious look that said,_ step aside_. "But he is not well. I believe that you deserve to hear the tale from me personally, as this situation is indeed my doing."

Deep down inside, Severus knew that the bulk of the results from this situation were not caused by Albus. However, this man had let Harry leave, and that was a grievous error on the Headmaster's part. The Potions Master could see the hurt in Albus's eyes, hear it in his voice. "What did he do?" his concerned; he didn't like what Albus's eyes suggested. They weren't twinkling, sparkling, or otherwise looking very hopeful at all.

"Severus…" Albus sighed. "Harry…has been hit with Blaise and Lucius's perfected curse."

The dark haired man's eyes widened. _Perfected curse?_ "What…is he alright? Could Lupin—"

"I'm afraid not, Severus. The perfected curse cannot be done away with by Legilimency. His mind as been locked away from all except…"

"Except who? Who, so that I can kill the bloody bastard!" Severus was beside himself with grief. He wasn't holding himself back or processing his thoughts before speaking. The only thing running through his head was the idea that Harry was now a soulless corpse. Harry was practically…dead. Harry was…he was…

"Lucius Malfoy. The curse has made Harry Lucius's slave."

"H-how? How does the curse work? Can't we—"

"We are not quite sure how the curse works, and so there is no counterspell at the moment. I am personally working on one. We managed to salvage some information from their base of operations."

"Where is Lucius?" Severus asked, his expression darkening. He knew that the blond wasn't dead—he was much too crafty for that, too battle-hardened to be killed by Harry. "I will _kill_ him."

"No need," Albus said, and Severus opened his mouth to say something in a rage, but the Headmaster held up his hand to silence him. "Harry has properly taken care of Lucius. The poor man was tortured almost to death. All that he mentions verbally are those "murderous eyes" of Harry's. Blaise was the individual who activated the spell. He, however, is dead. Draco killed him when Blaise cast the spell on Harry."

Severus clenched his fists. Draco killed Blaise, Harry was in worse shape than Ron had been in, and Ron himself was now awake. What was Severus to make of all of this? "Have you detained Harry?" Severus asked. "For if he is a slave of Lucius…" He hated to think of things this way, but truth be told, Harry was a fearsome opponent, even more so when he was emotional. He couldn't name a wizard in existence other than Dumbledore and Lucius would even think to take him on.

"Lucius Malfoy is not in the mental state to control anyone."

It seemed as though Albus wasn't taking this situation at all seriously. "He is a Death Eater, Albus, and I'll be damned if—"

"My sentiments exactly." There was then a small glimmer in the eyes of Albus Dumbledore, one that suggested he had somewhat of another plan.

Severus didn't like it, not one bit. Groaning, Severus asked, "What are you planning to do _now_, Albus?"

"We have the plans from Lucius's composition of the curse. It appears that Voldemort began the research but Lucius completed it. If someone is not found quickly to control Harry, he will die. That is why I am here."

Severus blinked, the gears in his mind grinding as he began to realize what the man implied. "Me? You want _me_ to control Harry?"

"You must become the Master of the curse, Severus; that is what the curse was created for. I can transfer the effects of the curse to you with a bit of blood magic. However, I need your approval."

A pause, and Severus realized that he was shaking with rage. "Albus, you disgust me. How dare you put Harry into such a compromising position, and then expect _me_ to help_ you_ follow it through to the end? How dare you put Harry in danger? You let him become this way. This is your fault!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "That may be true, Severus, but Harry is his own person; he makes his own decisions. I cannot stop him, just as you cannot; only advise him. His choice was his own, and I will not take responsibility for _his_ choice. However, I must agree that I did not try my best to convince him." Dumbledore sighed. "And that is why I am resigning from my position as Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Excuse me?" Severus must not have heard the man properly. Resign? From Hogwarts?

"I will be putting most of my energy into the countercurse for Harry, which will not leave much time for Hogwarts will it? I will be a very poor Headmaster this year if I do remain."

"To add insult to injury, Albus, you are now going to leave the one job that you can manage competently?"

"Now, now, Severus, I will work as hard as I can do break Harry's malady. In happy news, Severus, Ronald Weasley has gained consciousness."

"I know. He came to see me first thing…" Severus caught himself before he divulged all of his information. There was no logical reason to tell Albus _everything_; the man himself had a habit of withholding information for his own personal reasons.

Albus sent Severus a look that made the Professor feel like a lost puppy. "Severus. To transfer the spell's effect to your person is all that I can do for you and Harry. Will you agree to take it? It will be hard, baring Harry's presence while he's in that condition…"

Severus narrowed his eyes and hissed, "How much do you know?" The Headmaster—soon to be ex-Headmaster—was being a bit too considerate, and it was obvious to Severus that he knew something about the relationship between himself and Harry. He swore under his breath. How? How did Albus know so much about things that had nothing to do with him? Unless Harry ended up saying something utterly stupid—which didn't seem like a far-fetched notion, now that the Professor thought about it…

"Nothing," Albus replied, throwing his hands into the air in an innocent gesture. "I know only what your actions convey…"

Severus swore under his breath again. Confound it all if the man knew! "Please, Albus, do not be so modest about your uncanny talent for knowing the secrets floating around Hogwarts."

"I am not modest at all, Severus. I like to think of myself as rather flamboyant, actually." Albus smiled, then sighed deeply. "Being alive as long as I have, Severus—you tend to notice things that other don't. Or at least interpret things in a differently than others do."

Severus understood the silent message in that statement; he had been obvious, in all honesty, about his feelings for Harry—they were just surrounded by incompetent, oblivious fools who did not notice the way Albus had. The Potions Master sighed and said in quiet tones, "I apologize for my intolerable behavior."

Albus waved the apology away. "Considering Harry's present condition, it was well deserved. I can only apologize in turn for allowing him to go."

Severus laughed bitterly. "He would have gone anyway."

The Headmaster's expression turned serious. "You must prepare yourself to see him. The sight will nearly devastate you." His eyes shone with tears. "I have seen him myself. I watched Draco drown in Harry's eyes for hours—he almost passed up the opportunity to see Remus upon his return."

Severus cringed. "Is he…conscious?"

Albus nodded. "But lifeless. He will be nothing without…someone to command him. He is like a son to me, Severus, and even I could not tolerate watching him. I do not know how Draco did it."

"…Ron will be very angry."

"But Ron will have hope. After all, the boy just returned from a seven month absence of mind."

"Sirius will kill me."

"When has that ever concerned you, Severus?" The Headmaster teased. But his tone did not sound any lighter.

"It does not," Severus said coldly. "But I am painfully aware that Sirius is important to Harry."

Albus sighed again. "It will be hard, Severus, to maintain the task of watching Harry, especially after the school year begins—that is, if you remain a Professor here…"

_I resigned…_ Severus prompted himself. "Who else could possibly do the job properly?" he mumbled. Albus smiled. "I will regret the decision tomorrow," he added. "I have the incredibly odd feeling that I am close to breaking, Albus. I have taken on too much. Voldemort, Lucius, and now Harry? I am calm now, Albus, but only because I am not aware of how extensive Harry's damage is. I do not think that I can take much more." He paused. "This, Albus…it might kill me."

The older man gazed at him sympathetically. "This is the end of it all for now, Severus. For our generation, I believe that this is the last time we must fight so hard."

Severus quirked an eyebrow. "_Our_ generation?"

"_Generations_, forgive me," Albus revised. "It seems that I am not included in the ranks of the young."

The dark-haired man said frankly, "No. You are not. You taught me, Albus."

The Headmaster stood and shook his head. Then he frowned. "Did you want to see him?

Severus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "…I don't know."

"Come; I will take you to him. No one has visited him since I left—it will be deserted."

**July, 23, Sunday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

Severus did not like hospitals. They were the one thing that he had seen from both the muggle and wizarding worlds that were almost exactly the same. All the white—all the silence, the sadness. The feeling that you would probably pass away into the white that surrounded you. He was standing behind the door to Harry's room.

"Are you going to go in?" Albus asked.

Severus could feel, for the first time in decades, his stomach churning. He did _not_ have a good feeling about this. "I do not want to."

But Albus insisted. "You may not have a moment alone with him like this, not after words gets out with Harry's condition."

"Is he sleeping?"

"He cannot sleep unless the Master of the curse commands it. He cannot do anything…"

"He's just…there?"

"…yes."

Severus wanted to turn away, to leave, but something in Albus's voice seemed to hint that there was something to be gained from completing this task, and as much as he did not want to trust in Albus at that moment…he had no choice. _"I have to. I have to go."_ Those were Harry's last words. For the first time since Lucius had betrayed him, tears sprung to his eyes. He pushed the door open and entered to keep the Headmaster from seeing him. A resounding click echoed behind him. There Harry was, on a hospital bed much like the one that had been prepared for Ron at Hogwarts. As Severus approached the bed, he could feel his strength leaving him. He grasped he guardrails beside the bed, gripping them tightly. He could barely hold himself up when he saw Harry's open distant eyes.

"Harry?" he whispered. There was no answer.

"_This is all that I can give."_ Those were Severus's last words to Harry, followed by a small, resounding kiss that the Potions Master felt on his lips even as he stood there. His vision grew blurry as tears swelled in his eyes. He managed to hold himself back, but this entire scene was just so _wrong_ to him, and he had lied—that kiss had only been a part of what he could have given to Harry, but Severus hadn't and had been so stubborn and had missed his chance. And now, Harry was like this…

Severus blinked the tears away, but they replaced themselves. For a moment, his heart and mind melded together, and he could see himself in his younger years—in perfect clarity, despite the tears that had blurred his vision just moments ago. He saw himself beaten and tortured, lying in a pool of blood that belonged to none save himself, Lucius towering over him. That was the last time he had even cried—in the rain, in the pool of blood with Lucius there whispering sweet nothings in his ears despite being the one who had tortured him.

"Harry…" he called. Still no response. "Harry!" Severus raised his voice, to jar the memory from his mind as though forgetting about the past would force the boy in front of him to answer. But there was still no reply; only blank, green eyes that seemed like a bottomless pit. They were open, but they saw nothing.

Not even Severus.

"'Severus Snape'," the Potions Master recited bitterly, "'sleep without nightmares tonight'." He paused. "How am I supposed to do that, Harry?" he asked the open air. "How am I supposed to sleep soundly while you suffer? You always think you know _everything_. Don't you know that you are _dreadful_ at setting things right, Harry? _Dreadful_…" The green eyes were aimed at the ceiling, not at Severus, and it began to frustrate the Professor. "I will take care of you," he said, "because it is the only thing I have left to do with my pathetic existence. I have nothing left to live for. The War is over. You told me that I would survive it. I have. And to what end, Harry? So that I can continue living as a hermit who teaches children?" he laid his head on Harry's hand; it was warm. "Harry, you are all I have left to live for…you are the only one who needs me. I am sorry that I failed you."

_I am sorry, Harry._

_So, so sorry…_

_**This rain that hides my tears away, this rain that turns the world to gray**_

_**Thos happy memories of you and I are slashed in the night**_

_**Fading so fast, as I watch them helplessly**_

_**All my tears have began to overflow**__ –"It's Too Late"

* * *

_I love Severus Snape, and it pains me to see him going through this, honestly, but I think that this was a nice, emotionally charged chapter. Let me know what you all thought, please!


	26. Chapter 26

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Twenty-Six:** Now that the War is Done…

_**Ah, I slept quietly**_

_**Ah, I slept quietly**_

_**That person alone was my…my story.**__—"Stone Roses"_

**July 24, Monday, NIGHT, 2000**

Ronald Weasley had no recollection whatsoever of being tortured through any sort of memories; Hermione had told him that he wasn't expected to—he hadn't been hit with the experimental curse, only Blaise's Cruciatus. And, thanks to Hermione, all of his physical wounds were perfectly healed. It was the emotional ones that were being stubborn. Yes, he had known that becoming a Death Eater was one of those stupid, idiotic moves that would kick him in the arse later (and it did—hard enough to lay him out for seven months) but he'd done it anyway. He had seen Harry mature, and up to the point of the War's beginning Harry had still been that arrogant bloody git who was so selfish that he would try to take down the world by himself. However, that was only half of Harry's personality. The other half was the what took on the world so that no one would have to carry his burden—or, sometimes, their own. Harry was surprisingly a very simple person: People mattered first. Not magic, or politics, but _people_, regardless of whether or not they were wizard or muggle. There was a pureness in Harry, and now that he thought about, it was something that Harry and Hermione seemed to have in common.

Perhaps he had possessed it at some point, but he didn't anymore.

Being a Death Eater with a hidden motive was no easy feat by far—Ron couldn't fathom how Severus Snape had done it spying for Dumbledore for all of those years. Ron had only been there one year, and the line between good and evil had been wearing thin, blurring; when did you reach your limit? Would you torture an innocent man to prove your loyalty to Voldemort? Would you kill a child, take a Ministry agent under your control?

Unfortunately, to pull the act off properly, the answer had to be 'yes'.

It was in becoming a Death Eater that Ron realized precisely how wrong he'd been about Snape—The Professor had been lucky to come out of serving Voldemort _at all_, let alone for the two decades Snape had been there. As much as Snape had tortured Harry and himself at Hogwarts, Ron was honestly surprised how ironic the end to the story had been. Severus Snape in love with Harry? The world must have been shot to blood hell.

He laughed bitterly at his own thoughts.

"Feeling better alright, son?" a warm, kind voice wafted to his ears. Arthur Weasley, his own father, came through an open door, sitting at a large, ornate desk before Ron. "Anything injured?"

Ron had been waiting to speak to him. "I'm fine." This was the truth; it had been a long, long time since he had been able to give that answer smoothly. "Look at you, dad. All dressed up as the Minister. It's rather nice."

"I feel rather useless, actually; considering how long we've chased after Lucius Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, I've been on constant press release control since I have been in Office. I have almost _no _time at all to study my muggle culture."

"Think about how much time you'll have when the real work comes in," Ron joked dryly.

"I know. Your court paperwork is already becoming a bother. Do you know how many pages I had to notarize?"

"Sorry."

"You shouldn't be pressed for charges; you made it possible for Harry to kill You-Know-Who."

"He's dead now, dad. Call him by his name. Voldemort." Ron remembered, after he had first met Harry, how he had been afraid of speaking that name. He shook his head. Too many ironic endings.

"…I can't."

Ron laughed. "You're the Minister. You should be able to say Voldemort's name."

"I won't. Too many memories…" Arthur Weasley distracted himself by shuffling through some papers, and handed Ron a roll of parchment. "Read it," his father said. It was an article from that morning's Daily Prophet.

_**DEATH EATERS CAPTURED AND KILLED!**_

_It was revealed by Arthur Weasley, Minister of Magic, that late last night infamous Death Eaters Lucius Malfoy and Blaise Zabini were found six days ago after being followed and tracked by Aurors for almost two weeks. They were discovered with Bellatrix Lestrange, cousin of the Auror Sirius Black—whom after the death of He-who-must-not-be-named was cleared of all crimes with outstanding evidence. We were told that _she_ was the individual who had escaped Azkaban more than two weeks ago. The information, it was said, had been kept from the public to control the Wizarding World's panic levels, and that we would have been—and still will be—informed if fatal danger arises._

_British Auror found the trio lurking at Godric's Hollow, where apparently Zabini and Malfoy had performed a Fidelius Charm to conceal themselves."Because they were constantly moving to avoid being discovered," Auror Daniel Hayes, a participant of the raid, said, "they didn't have time to recast the Charm to conceal themselves." _

_The Aurors who captured Bellatrix and Lucius are his son, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood—a werewolf who studied under Remus Lupin, famous lycanthrope and Auror extraordinaire—Nymphadora Tonks, and Daniel Hayes. Blaise Zabini, who was an accomplice to Malfoy during the entire ordeal, was killed after casting an unidentified curse at Harry Potter. The Ministry is withholding the details on the Boy Who Lived for now due to lack of information as to Malfoy and Zabini's activities and operations. The __Daily Prophet__ will diligently update readers as more information becomes available._

_Zabini and Malfoy were the last two known Death Eaters, and therefore processing for court verdicts are speeding more quickly than usual. Many Aurors are pushing for the trial of Ron Weasley, member of the Order of the Pheonix-turned-Death Eater who allegedly aided The Boy Who Lived in defeating Voldemort according to accounts from several wizards in attendance to the event at the time. That includes Order of Merlin, First Class member Albus Dumbledore, head of the Order. After remaining unconscious for more than six months due to injuries, the young Weasley is expected to be seen in court soon. When asked how he felt about his son being tried for betraying the Wizarding Community, the Minister replied, "Of course no one wants to see their son charged for these sort of things, but I—for one—am simply glad that he is awake now and able to deal with any charges at all. We should not forget the man wizards and witches who died in this War. In any case, I have faith in the judicial system of the Ministry, and in that the truth will be revealed. I also believe in my son, as any father would."_

_Also announced was the confirmed decision to re-open Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this September. We were informed by the Headmaster that letters are currently being sent out, and that he apologizes for the tardiness in the school's affairs. "I wanted to wait until most families could be assured of safety," remarked Albus Dumbeldore. "I cannot and will not risk any potential students."_

_CONTINUING ON PAGE SIX, WE ARE FEATURING A FINAL ACCOUNT OF ZABINI AND MALFOY'S DESTRUCTION OF THE WIZARDING WORLD!_

Ron looked at his father, eyes furrowed. "That's bullshit. They try to get you on account that you're my father , but there's nothing included about Draco and Lucius? So unfair."

"Ronald…"

Ron smirked. "Kidding. It's nice to be able to do that, now."

Arthur sent his son a sad smile. "We've missed you." He paused. "I'm sorry I could only see you tonight. I'm so swamped during the day—"

"Have you seen Harry?" The question was sudden, but it was necessary. It seemed that no one had very much information about him.

"…when the Aurors first brought Blaise, Bellatrix and Lucius back, yes…I made it my priority."

"How does he look?" Ron knew that answer, but desperately hoped that he was wrong.

"Not good, Ron. Not good at all."

"Did you visit him in St. Mungo's?"

"I am assured by Albus that he will not be there too much longer. I will visit him when he is moved to Hogwarts. How is Hermione?"

"Fine," Ron accepted his father's change in subject. He also decided not to comment on his father's vagueness of Harry's condition. He would see his best friend eventually. "She's asked me to marry her." He frowned.

His father seemed to read into his expression. "Is that a bad thing? You two used to be inseparable."

"I find it hard to believe that Hermione has forgiven me for leaving. She really had no idea what I was planning."

"I think, after your trial, you should. Clearly, she loves you enough to not want to be separated from you like that again. That was why Molly and I married young; with You-Know-Who on the loose, Molly was worried she would lose me…"

"Dad…she's afraid of me, even though she asked. I can feel it. She's scared of who I am now. You should have seen her when she went to see Snape with me. She couldn't believe it."

Arthur shuffled through some papers on his desk. "…she still loves you…" he said, slipping on a pair of reading glasses. "That's what's important."

Ron certainly hoped so.

**July 25, Tuesday, MORNING, 2000**

"Mister Weasley," came a gentle voice from outside of the door. Ron had already been awake, and he rose from his cot in the corner of the room to make his way to Hermione's bed, shaking her.

"Miss Granger…Mister Weasley…? I realize that it is very early…"

Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione slept on. He opened the door himself, using his wand to hastily change into long, black dress robes. He shook his head at himself, thinking, _You're no longer a Death Eater! You aren't required to wear black…_He smiled at Dumbledore, slightly surprised that he was being visited by the Headmaster.

"Hermione is sleeping," Ron said.

"Perhaps it is good for her not to know." Dumbledore's voice had turned very serious—the most grave that Ron had ever heard the Headmaster speak. "I am here to update you on Harry's condition. Minerva told me that you and Hermione stopped by my Office after you awoke. I apologize for my absence. At the time I was with Harry."

"Arthur—Dad—won't tell me what's wrong with him." It was odd, saying the word 'dad' again. All the Death Eaters addressed the Minister as Arthur or by the title itself—there was no personal attachment.

"I myself find it difficult; but I can get through it. I have had to tell Draco and Severus already. They were not happy."

"Hmph. Then I won't be happy, either."

"I suppose that you won't. I am not able to cure him like Lupin did the others." Albus made a small, subtle gesture to Hermione, and without another word, Ron followed him out into the hall and closed the door behind him. "The incantation," the Headmaster continued in a whisper, "that Lucius and Blaise created is complicated. They have locked Harry's conscious away, and they are controlling his subconscious. The curse makes Harry—had made Harry—a slave, essentially, like those under the Imperius curse. Since Blaise is dead, I am sure that the control should have shifted to Lucius, who completed the incantation."

"Past tense. Why?"

"Harry was protected by both Luna and Tonks as he was hit. His connection to Lucius is too weak not to take advantage of it, I think. I am using my magic to change the commander of the spell to someone else."

"You're…giving someone—who isn't Lucius—the right to control Harry?"

"If you must phrase it that way, yes. That is exactly what I am doing. Harry has unlimited potential—I do not want Lucius to use it."

"…who are you choosing? Clearly not me."

"Of course not. You and your fiancé have much to plan." There was a slight glimmer in Dumbledore's eyes.

Ron paled. "How do you—dad. Right. Stupid question."

"You've become rather perceptive in your absence." Dumbledore smiled.

"I've become a lot of things, Headmaster. Many of them are things I do not want to be."

"Ronald, we are all glad that you are back. All of us."

"I'm sure that Lucius isn't."

"He does not know. There. Now to the business of who should, in essence, _have_ Harry—"

"It should be Severus," Ron said. After speaking to Snape, Ron was sure that the ex-Death Eater would take better care of Harry than even Ron himself would—unbelievable as it was.

The world had changed too much; too many things were creepy now; Severus was in love with Harry, despite Lucius; Draco loved Remus, despite Blaise; he himself had been damaged, and now his familiar place had been taken by Draco; Voldemort was dead but _Lucius_ was trying to replace the Dark Lord? He would never be gone for such a long time. Ever again.

"My, my, how rumors get around," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eyes. "For Severus is precisely who I've chosen."

_**The when the winds pick up and blow away, and I close my eyes; my world's turned to gray. **__–"Last in my Winds"

* * *

_

A/N: I'm in the mood to root for Ron after this chapter. I like who he's become in this story, and I'm looking forward to what he's got to contribute to it. He's about serious business.


	27. Chapter 27

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven:** Smiling Tears

_**As the rain comes down, as the rain comes down**_

_**All the questions left have dried up so fast**_

_**Lit again, two lovers rejoined and now have been turned 'to one.**__—"Mellow Candle"_

**July 25, Tuesday, MORNING, 2000**

Hermione awoke to the sound of muffled voices. One her mind recognized immediately as Albus Dumbledore. The other was dark, sarcastic, joking but not remotely as refined as Draco's. _Ron_, she realized with a start, and stirred. She had refused to allow Ron to see McGonagall to give him his own room. She would never let Ron out of her sight longer than the time it took for him to use the loo.

Opening her eyes to a blurry haze of white as rays of sun poured through the window, she heard Dumbledore say distinctly, "Well, I'll leave you two honeymooners…"

Ron answered sharply, "That is _not_ funny."

Dumbledore, contrary to Ron's statement, laughed. "You must learn to laugh, young Weasley. There have not been many things for us to laugh for lately."

"I guess."

Hermione felt herself blush, and said drowsily, trying to sound like she had just woken up. "Professor Dumbledore? Is something wrong?

"Of course not," was the answer she received from him. She heard him shuffle, and it was obvious that he was leaving. "You two just…rest. Someone should contact you fairly soon about a court date for Ron's trial."

"Trials? What trial?" Hermione sat up abruptly. "What do they want with Ron?"

"Naturally, Ms. Granger, to assess whether or not he has done more harm than good to the Wizarding World, and whether or not he should be commended or punished. It will be fine, I am sure. The undeniable fact that you he aided in Voldemort's death should be enough."

This worried her, despite the Headmaster's comforting words. "Who's pushing this?"

Ron looked at her. "Look, I expected this. It's no one's fault but my—"

"Percy Weasley," Dumbledore said sadly.

Ron looked slightly shocked at this piece of information, and then relaxed back into form. "That bloody git will get what he deserves," he said darkly.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted. She was flabbergasted. Was that a threat on the life of Ron's own brother?

"But it will be _fine_," Dumbledore insisted. "I guarantee that nothing too cruel will come of this." He sighed. "We are almost done. Physical scars of the War are almost healed. Ron, do not start a feud with your brother—not now. Hermione, there is a lot of information that will come to you later. I ask that you refrain from asking until you are briefed. Stay close to Ron."

Although Hermione was a bit confused as to what that was supposed to mean, she nodded. "I will, Headmaster," she answered. Ron murmured his agreement.

Dumbledore made his exit, and just as he did so, Ron asked, "Do you know _anything_, Hermione?" The question hurt Hermione, especially coming from Ron. It made her feel stupid. Nothing was happening to her, only to those around her, and she knew nothing. Hermione could tell that she had no clue about anything. Sadly, slowly, she shook her head. "Get dressed," he added. "We're going to St. Mungo's."

"…for what? Are you ill?"

"You really _don't_ know? Draco and Harry came back the same day I woke up. Harry is in St. Mungo's. He's been there since he got back."

Hermione remembered Sirius, how frantic he was to find Harry. "Please, Ron. He's not…is he…?"

Ron nodded. "Worse, actually, from what Dumbledore told me. He's incurable by whatever means Lupin typically uses—" Hermione gasped. "But Dumbledore says they will eventually find it. They managed with everyone else, didn't they?" Ron sounded genuinely hopeful.

Hermione hoped that they would. She got out of bed immediately, shuffling about the room for her things. "Who cast it? Lucius?"

"Blaise Zabini. But he's dead." Ron shook his head. "I'm missing some information, too, 'Mione," he used her old nickname, and it made Hermione smile. For a small moment, Hermione saw Ron smile back. Then it was suddenly gone, and Ron said, "I'll be waiting in the Entrance Hall for you." He headed toward the door.

"Ron?" Even though they were talking, there was still this awkwardness between them, and it bothered her.

"While you change, y'know?" It was obvious that Ron felt it, too.

Hermione's fears set themselves into play; she really wished that Ron would stay with her. Nothing seemed to be solid anymore, and she didn't want to risk something happening to him while he was out of her sight. She told herself that it was a groundless fear—that Ron was only going to the Entrance Hall. But Ron left before she could voice those fears, the door snapping closed behind him.

**July 25, Tuesday, MORNING, 2000**

Hermione cried with her head buried into Ron's shoulder as they both stood over Harry's hospital bed. What had Blaise done?

"…'Mione, I need you to sit," Ron said, trying to pry her from him. But she clung there; everything was so _wrong_. Harry wasn't merely unconscious—he looked _dead_. She had immediately cast a spell that would close his open, listless eyes; it didn't work. She couldn't understand why.

"Hermione, _sit down._" Ron used his wand to pull one of the chairs from a corner of the room in their direction. Hermione didn't budge. "Hermione, you need to hear this. I need you to sit down, clear your mind for a moment, and then listen to what I am going to say to you."

"No!" she cried. "The last time I was here, at St. Mungo's, they told me that you—that you—"

"So be it then," Ron said, shaking his head. "But you have to be strong for Harry—"

"I'm bloody tired of being strong!" Hermione burst. She looked up, meeting Ron's now indiscernible eyes. "I was strong for you for _seven months_. I was strong for Harry when he stopped believing in the good of people—in _your_ goodness! I and your family were the _only ones_ who believed that you would come back! Do you know how many days I _slaved _over you, when I wanted to sit and cry?"

Ron seemed to not have a response, and Hermione only cried harder, burying her face into Ron's shoulder again. "I know you've been through a lot," Ron said slowly. "But t his is very important. Aren't you tired of being in the dark? Don't you want to know how Harry became this way?"

"You said Blaise did it."

"Lucius spoke the incantation. I had a dream the night that I woke up, Hermione," Ron explained. "It was the entire battle that Harry experienced. That's why I asked to speak to Snape."

"You've been here three days. Why didn't you say something before?"

"I didn't know if you could handle it—I was trying to avoid _this_."

"But Harry is my friend, too!"

"I know, but...Harry tortured Lucius. He's not dead, just…Lucius, I've heard, is in such bad condition that the Ministry felt it unnecessary to sentence him to the Dementor's Kiss." Hermione gasped. What did Harry do to him? "When he was torturing Lucius, Hermione…Harry was almost a different person. He was the most angry I have ever seen him. Don't get me wrong, I thought the bastard had it coming—but it was just _different_, you know?" Hermione knew the feeling of looking into Harry's eyes when they were like that—murderous. Sparing a glance at Harry's body, she winced—there was nothing there at all. It made her want to cry some more. "Dumbledore will be working on a cure," Ron said. "He did not have time to brief me on everything; that much I could tell. But I know that despite Harry's condition, the world is trying to get back to where it was. Don't you think that you should be a part of that?" Hermione nodded. "No one besides those Dumbledore told knows about Harry's condition. We are trying to get him out of here before he's really discovered. Ginny's been helpful in that, dad's told me."

"What are they going to do with him?"

"You'll see soon enough. That's something I don't feel comfortable sharing. I hope that Dumbledore can do something before we get to that point, though; he's a powerful wizard. If anyone can do it, Dumbledore can."

Hermione dried her eyes. "He just looks…so…"

"Dead? Yeah. I was there when Lucius started planning this with Blaise and Voldemort. That is the sickest trio of people I've ever seen together. Lucius and Blaise…" Ron made a face, one that expressed his disgust. "You wouldn't believe it, 'Mione. The lot of them. They all joined Voldemort for the most asinine reasons. Life wasn't as sweet as they wanted, and they took their vengeance with Voldemort. As for Lucius and Blaise…their pettiness is what drove them to complete the curse."

Hermione's curiosity got the better of her. "Why…what reasons were those?"

Ron shook his head. "Lucius and Blaise…wanted to force Severus and Draco to be theirs."

**July 25, Tuesday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

"Mister Weasley," The Ministry Official said, "I am contacting you at this fireplace at the behest of the Minister. I assume that you are available?"

The pair were back in the Hermione's room, looking at the old man's head in the fireplace. It was bald. Ron seemed to address the man with a strong sense of respect, and Hermione with a strong sense of resentment. She didn't understand why of all places, Ron refused to let his rebellious streak shine in the face of someone eager to send him off to jail.

"Yes, I am," Ron said politely.

"Usually, we set these times by owl post, but the Minister instructed me to—"

"—I get it," Ron cut the man off, voice still holding its polite tone. "Please, I'm not looking forward to this message—get on with it."

"Well," the man huffed, seeming to sympathize with Ron's situation. "You are being charged with: Cooperation with the Dark Lord Voldemort, Divulging information to the Dark Lord Voldemort, Usage of Dark Magics, Desertion of post as an Auror and Spying for the enemy. Your date of trial is July thirty-first."

"The thirty-first?" Hermione echoed. "But that's—"

"Harry's birthday," Ron finished.

"Well," the official resumed awkwardly, "that is the date set by the Ministry. You must be in attendance or you will face arrest."

"I am familiar with Ministry procedures," Ron replied.

_Since when?_ Hermione asked herself.

"Wonderful. I believe the Minister himself wishes to be your transportation. He will contact you concerning those arrangements. Thank you, Mister Weasley, for your cooperation. We will see you in approximately five days." The head vanished from the fireplace, leaving the room darker than before, and if Hermione wasn't mistaken, a bit colder.

"I guess that's it," Ron said. "I'll have to get as many people as possible to vouch for me in court."

Hermione eyed him as though he was insane. "You need to research presentable arguments!"

"Hermione," Ron said sharply, "calm down. Now that Lucius is captured they'll be more relaxed about it."

"And because of Lucius's actions Percy will persecute you twice as thoroughly! Do you think that when Harry's condition becomes known—"

"No one will know but those who are close to Harry. They will not find out. Dumbledore will make sure of it."

Hermione no longer knew if she believed that the world would be so merciful. "Ron, I gained you and lost Harry; how am I supposed to go on if they give you the Dementor's Kiss?"

"Now you're just being extreme, 'Mione—"

"No, I'm not!" she yelled. "Percy and those who hate anyone associated with Voldemort will not look at you differently because you were Harry's friend. Nor will any of your witnesses be seen differently. Remus is a werewolf—"

"The werewolf who cured Lucius's victims."

"Still a werewolf. They have gained ground as a people since the war, Ron, since the Bloody Battle, but the fact remains that they are dangerous. No one trusts them completely. Then there's Draco—"

"Lucius's son," Ron said quietly, "not that I would want him testifying for me, anyway…"

"Yes, and there's Severus—"

"Former Death Eater."

"Do you see my point, Ron? They will question the validity of everyone who says anything about you."

"Albus Dumbledore…" Ron said finally. It was obvious that he believed not in the man himself, but of the notoriety that he had with the world.

Hermione shook her head. It was still not enough. "…has given a second chance to a werewolf who resigned from his position at Hogwarts, and a former Death Eater as well. Dumbledore's word isn't very solid now. Now until all of the Lucius business is sorted out and Hogwarts reopens. Dumbledore holds clout, Ron, but is it enough to erase what everyone thinks you did? You betrayed the Wizarding world by joining Voldemort at the height of his power in the War!"

Ron looked to her. "You were there," he said solemnly. "You saw what I did."

Hermione had no come back for that. Yes, she had been there. She had seen Ron's bravery and how he had paid for it. She had seen Ron's face as he screamed, succumbing to the Cruciatus curse. She did not want to relive the memory. "Yes…I was there."

Ron sighed. "Hermione—"

But the female Gryffindor swallowed, turning away from Ron's piercing gaze to gather herself. "…please, Ron. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't give my say in court?"

_**All too soon, with the heart, feel the body break as well**_

_**Somewhere still, they know that it's meant to be**_

_**Thoughtless and mistaken, in your heart, the scar remains**_

_**You and I, truly like the flame, dimly burn away…**__--"Mellow Candle"_


	28. Chapter 28

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight:** Blood Work

_**People's emotions vanish**_

_**But the starts don't become like**_

_**In this gentle song**_

_**It is as if they are healed…**__--"Stone Roses"_

**July 25, Tuesday, EVENING, 2000**

Despite Draco's reunion with Remus Lupin, their joy was short lived; Arthur Weasley informed them that Ron, his son, was being put on trial the thirty first, mere days after Draco and Harry's return. "What are the charges?" Draco inquired.

"From least to most serious: Desertion of post as an Auror, spying for an enemy of the Wizarding society, usage of Dark Magics, divulging information to the Dark Wizard Voldemort—he surprisingly didn't flinch as he said the name—and cooperation with the Dark Wizard Voldemort."

"That's not too bad," Draco remarked. "At least they're sticking with the things that he's actually done."

"Draco!" Remus exclaimed.

"It's true. The Ministry usually plants their own twists into the story to get a suspect in Azkaban. I'm the son of a Death Eater—_the _Death Eater, in fact—so I've seen it happen." Despite this statement, Draco was proud of what Arthur Weasley had done for the Ministry. How calmly the man was handling this son's prosecution also deserved praise.

Arthur also told them that the charges were filed by Percy. Draco swore. "But most importantly," The Minister added, "I want to ask if the both of you would testify on Ron's behalf."

Both men nodded their approval for this. "If there's anything else we can do…" Remus began.

"No. This is all."

"We will be there."

Then, the Minister dropped his voice to a whisper. "Albus…" he trailed off.

Immediately, Draco was on edge. The Headmaster had said he would contact them when the time was right. To attend the transfer of Harry's bound consciousness from Lucius (though he was unaware) to Severus. Draco had both anticipated and dreaded the event, wondering how well the Potion Master would take the burden of caring for Harry. Considering that his own father had designed the spell, Draco was sure that it would be no easy task for a man as haunted as Severus. Blood magic was something that changed you almost permanently. But if Dumbledore saw fit for it…

"Albus," Arthur continued, "has had Harry's body removed from St. Mungos. He says that there is no choice but to complete the transition in the Shrieking Shack. You and Remus are to attend along with myself and Severus Snape. Of course, Albus will be there. At five. He says it must be completed during sunset to maximize—"

"—its potential as a transitioning blood magic," Remus finished.

"Yes." Straightening up, Arthur said, "That is all."

"What about Ron and Hermione?" Draco asked; they had been Harry's closest friends.

"…they will be told when Albus sees fit. Ron is already aware."

The message was obvious there. "I see…"

"And Ron has enough to deal with handling the trial."

Draco didn't say anything, but he could see through Arthur's newfound layer of professionalism, to the part of him that worried about his youngest son's future. He had always been the family type, Draco had come to realize, even while his children were attending Hogwarts. There was no way that he could easily let things go and not feel for Ron.

"Ron has many friends, Arthur," Remus said, as though he had been reading Draco's mind. The lycanthrope always knew the right words to say. "I am sure that he will be fine."

"That is what Albus says," Arthur sighed, "but I must tell you that it's moments like these where I almost wish that I were a muggle."

Draco vaguely understood the notion of no longer wanting to be a wizard, although he would never wish he were a muggle. The aftermath of the War was making victims desperate; the Wizarding World was still trying to stand on its own two feet. It was a difficult process, one that did not allow time for the mourning of the victims of the War.

Victims like Harry Potter.

"We need you here, as the Minister," Draco said firmly.

"Thank you," Arthur said.

"We will see you this evening," Remus said kindly.

"I hope that it works," The Minister returned. "I do not think I would be happy with Harry being controlled by Lucius."

"I hope it works," Draco offered, "until Albus finds a cure for Harry."

**July 26, Wednesday, EARLY MORNING, 2000**

Draco was not familiar with the Shrieking Shack—a place that he had only heard of in Remus's short descriptions of his past. Never in his life had Draco imagined that the knotted trunk of the Whomping Willow led the way to the Shrieking Shack, and it was with a sting that Draco remembered Harry, Ron and Hermione scaring him by using the lore of the Shrieking Shack to their advantage in third year. It was very dark—and would have been a very fright-inspiring scene had he not seen worse during the War. As they reached the end of the passage, they came into what Draco could only assume as the Shrieking Shack, and there were signs of old werewolf activity—slashes on the walls, ripped fabrics and chairs, dried blood…

It reminded him how old Remus really was.

Set up in the middle of the room was a runic circle that looked as though it had been burned into the ground. It was almost perfect—a pentacle inside a circle; a barrier to contain the powerful magic that would be used tonight. Dumbledore stood in the center, with Severus beside him, and—Harry? _Yes_, Harry, The Boy Who Lived, stood opposite of Severus on Albus's right side.

_Have they been forced to continue the procedure without us?_ He wondered. That thought vanished as the couple neared Harry. His eyes were still dead, his lips expressionless. His eyes, those green captors, still stared straight ahead, into the distance…into a place worse than Hell.

"Draco, Remus," he heard Albus say. "You are here. Wonderful." Next to the Headmaster stood Severus, looking very much alive if not uneasy. The Head of Slytherin's eyes avoided Draco's; they sent a silent message to Remus instead, with a small smile. Whatever it was, the werewolf understood, and smiled back. Then Severus shook his head dejectedly. Remus had told Draco that Severus had been the one to first realize the absence of Harry and himself, and through their worry, it appeared that they had forged some sort of relationship.

_Impressive,_ Draco thought,_ considering that Harry actually did something _correctly_ this time._ He regretted the notion right after. "How is Harry standing?" he demanded instead.

"His body's main goal is self-preservation," Albus replied. "He will continue to stand and can be changed into a sitting and lying position, so long as he is not in physical danger."

"This is an intricate spell circle, Headmaster," Remus said. "How will this work?" Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Arthur Weasley enter the room, the door creaking as he stepped in.

"The circle is simply to prevent the magic from escaping and to channel it into Harry."

"_How_ are you doing the transfer?" Draco asked. He could feel the apprehension in his bones.

"I have procured a small vial of Lucius's blood, courtesy of the Ministry of Magic—" Everyone turned to look at Arthur, who merely moved into a corner of the room. "I will perform a spell that should extract some magical essence from Lucius's blood, meld it with Harry's, which one Virginia Weasley so kindly acquired—" From his corner, Arthur smiled weakly. "—and, in a sense, inscribe the resulting magical signature into Severus's essence. He will then be able to override Lucius's influence on Harry and take hold of the function of the curse himself. I have brought the manuscripts of Lucius's spell with me; they revealed a lot of protocol for this. It was a lot more difficult than I first thought. This magic takes almost a day to amass the energy for."

Severus seemed intrigued. "A _day_, Albus?"

"A full one, at that. It is a part of the intricacy. Even if you can discover a word or words to possibly undo the bind on the magic, simply counteracting the magic powering the curse is a ridiculously extended process."

"Well," Severus grumbled, "Can we please just get this over with?"

Albus's face became grave. "I suppose now is the time. Mister Malfoy, Mister Lupin, if you would please remove yourself from the circle."

"Is there some role that we are supposed to fulfill in all this?" Draco inquired, "You know, while this is happening?"

"You are all witnesses," Severus said, "in the case that Harry's true condition is discovered. This is legal, since we have approval from Arthur and this is a damage control precaution for the War." The Potions Master frowned. "But in the case that our actions are prosecuted for some unforeseen reasons or logic…"

"Alright," Remus said.

"Please leave the circle," Albus asked again.

Draco and Remus took their place by the Minister of Magic, Remus wrapping his arms around Draco's neck protectively from behind. Despite the moment, Draco smiled weakly. The Minister sighed deeply, and Draco felt his smile vanish as Remus turned to Arthur. "How long as has it been since you've seen Molly?"

Arthur shuffled his feet. "Almost two weeks." With a pang Draco realized that being the Minister of Magic was a difficult affair, however easy Arthur had allowed it to appear.

"I require your blood, Severus," Albus said clearly. Severus frowned, and as though it was habitual, casually removed a knife from his robes and cut his left wrist, blood pilling into the very center of the circle, where the lines of the pentacle intersected. "Oh, bother," Albus said. "Severus, cease being so dramatic. This is not a muggle storybook. _Episkey_."

"You got what you needed," Severus snapped, looking at his healed wrist.

Albus sighed. Perhaps the man could sense, like Draco could, that this ordeal was beginning to become too much for the Potions Master.

"Very well," Albus said, "let us begin."

_**I fear there's nothing that I can do**_

_**Soaked by the rain I stand upon the concrete, sobbing now…**__--"It's too Late"_


	29. Chapter 29

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine:** The Beginning of an End

_**On the stone hidden in my Heart**_

_**What breaks is redness;**_

_**Red tears are flowing, aren't they?**_

_**But they're deceiving…**__--"Stone Roses"_

**July 25, Tuesday, NIGHT, 2000**

Severus felt nothing when Albus began chanting in a language that the Head of Slytherin could recognize as Sanskrit. Albus began pacing the circle, one vial of blood in each hand. The outer lines of the pentacle began to glow. Albus had said that it shouldn't take too long to complete this process. But every time Albus took a step, Severus could feel another stab to his heart. He looked across, at Harry and felt a shiver pour itself down his spine. He, just like Draco, had been surprised to see Harry standing on his own feet. Severus had had the overwhelming urge to touch the boy, to reassure himself that Harry was actually standing here. The Potions Master saw Albus continuing to pace, the jars of blood no longer in his hands, but floating on their own inside of the circle. Albus concentrated all of his power to both bottles; Severus knew, because he could feel the energy—and the vials around the liquid shattered, leaving two identical floating samples of blood, which Albus moved about with his wand almost as though he was holding a remote control of some sort.

Severus's eyes strayed to Harry, and he quickly looked away. _That is _not_ Harry,_ he reminded himself. _ That is an empty shell. That is not Harry._ But he desperately wished that it was. There was no one to blame for Harry's lack of knowledge of Severus's feelings but the Potions Master himself. It wasn't until Severus had noticed that Harry was gone that it was decided to break Severus's bond with Lucius—to stop the Death Eater from haunting his dreams.

"_Severus Snape, sleep without nightmares tonight."_

Suddenly, a bright light enveloped the symbol that he was standing on. Looking down, he could see the Headmaster on the ground near Harry, _pressing_ what Severus assumed was the finished magical essence into the ground. As though it was obeying orders, the ground—the same area where Severus had dropped his blood—was absorbing the essence. Outside of the circle, Severus could see Arthur, Draco and Remus staring with unmasked intrigue at the procedure. Bracing himself, Severus also spied Albus removing himself from the symbol on the floor. The time had apparently come. Albus recited a few more words before Severus's entire vision was blinded by white. The Potions Master felt himself enveloped in magic, and embraced it, closing his eyes as the warm, intangible force filled his being. A scene suddenly filled his vision.

"_SHUT UP!"_ The voice could have only belonged to one person. Harry. Severus called out his name, looking around. The landscape was in flames. But despite this it only took a moment to find and recognize his lover, and Severus's eyes landed on the boy just before Harry, leaning over Lucius Malfoy, snapped the older man's wand in half and stabbed Lucius with the pieces.

"Harry, stop!" Severus tried to speak, but nothing emerged from his throat.

Lucius had been immobilized, clearly, and Harry hissed loudly, "_Crucio!_"

Forcing his eyes open, Severus found himself looking at the bare, previously marked floor of the dilapidated Shrieking Shack. His breaking was haggard, and he struggled not only to regain it, but to keep himself standing upright. His knees were shaking, and then he fell, catching himself on the ground with his hands, gripping the dirt between his fingers. _What on earth…?_ He thought, confused, mind spinning._ Clearly, Harry was fighting Lucius…_Quite obviously, _that_ had been a scene from Harry absence with Draco. _Blast it!_ Severus swore mentally, _I didn't see how he was cursed!_

"Severus?" A voice cut through his thoughts. "Severus, are you all right? Can you stand?" Albus. Severus pushed himself to his feet, purposefully avoiding looking in the direction in which Harry stood.

"Albus…what happened?"

"_Look._" Severus would not. He had to find out what happened. Exactly. His black eyes flickered to Draco—and saw the astonished look aimed from his grey eyes. He saw Harry's face reflected in the irises. "Severus," Albus said more forcefully. "_Look._"

Slowly turning, Severus saw what the others had seen. Harry, standing there, blinking and fidgeting as thought he had no idea where he was. There was life…in his green eyes. Life. The boy really was alive. Cognizant. Aware. "Harry…" the name was spoken in awe, in love, in relief. There was so much that Severus had to tell him. So much he had to be caught up on. So many truths that needed to be told.

But the Potions Master's happiness was shattered when Harry frowned, his face as emotionless as his voice as the Boy Who Lived opened his mouth and said, "Yes, Master."

The Head of Slytherin took a step back from that…that abomination. _This was NOT Harry Potter! _He was speechless for quite some time, not sure what to do, what to say. Albus and the others were staring at Harry, each of them just as shocked at the words that had come from his mouth. Swallowing, Severus looked about, and realizing that no one else was going to say anything, he tried to find his own words. However, Albus did indeed speak. "It will take some getting used to, Severus, but you will need to maintain him until I cure him of this curse entirely."

In their alcove of the room, Draco seemed to cower behind Remus. "Th-This isn't Harry…it's…it's…"

"Lucius's victim," Remus and Arthur said together, and their eyes met.

Severus turned to Albus, still at a loss for words. "You must seal the control," Albus said, "by asking him to do something. Since we are in the Shrieking Shack, something trivial will do. For instance, you can tell him to pick up your knife from upon the floor and hand it to you. But you must seal it, or the small conscious allowed to seep through by the curse will vanish, and Harry will be without a mind once more."

"Harry…" Arthur whispered, so softly that Severus almost missed it.

"He hears no one but Severus now," Albus said, "until the transfer is sealed." All that came to Severus's mind at the time was, however, _This is not Harry._

It was Draco's fierce cry that jarred the Potions Master. "Severus! Seal the damned curse!"

His trance broken, Severus resigned himself to his task. He had promised. He had sworn to the boy on his death bed that he would take care of him. "Harry…" Severus said, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. "Please bring my knife to me." Wordlessly, Harry did as he was bid, reaching to retrieve the knife and walking the object to Severus.

"Yes, Master," Harry said, tipping the knife into the Potions Master's hands. With the transaction the knife pulsed with a short, white glow that went as quickly as it had come.

"It is done," Albus said, and Severus wheeled around the notice that the Headmaster's knuckles were white, clutching at his own robe in passive distress. On the contrary, Albus's face showed no signs of anything—only weariness. "Arthur, Remus, and Draco, I thank you kindly for your services. You are now free to go. I trust it is not necessary to tell you to keep tonight to yourselves. Exempting Arthur, of course, in the case that he is pressed by other Minister workers." Remus, Draco, and Arthur nodded.

But there was a question tugging at the restraints of Severus's mind. Draco seemed to be thinking in the same fashion, because he asked, "Albus…Harry's…his attachment to Severus is so…"

"Utterly obvious," Severus completed. He tried to subdue his emotions, to keep himself in check. He had to keep himself together. "Voldemort would never have used an entranced person in this condition."

"The connections that now exist between you are not specified in Lucius's plans, but there is a reference to—"

Remus interrupted. "—that you can _order_ Harry to behave in whatever manner you wish. I've seen the blueprints. Because Harry's mind is trapped in his most feared memories, _this_ Harry by means of the incantation can visit Harry's more pleasurable memories for information about Harry's character, which in turn can render him capable of behaving like…the Harry we know."

"Exactly," Albus resumed, "but you must order him. You must _tell_ him. Questions, Severus, are not absolute."

Severus felt disgusted. "So this…_thing_ can behave like Harry?"

"If you order it. Which you will need to do whenever you begin interaction with others. Unless so ordered, I suspect he will follow you…"

Severus's eyes flashes to Arthur Weasley, who was beginning to exit. "I will see you tomorrow morning, Albus." The Minister's voice was depressed, and he had been clearly affected by what he had just witnessed. So was Severus. This was a new low for Voldemort, let alone Lucius and Blaise—merely a child.

"This is the last hurtle for the War," Albus said, to all of them. "This is the last trial."

"Certainly a large one," Draco muttered harshly. Arthur continued to exit.

Albus asked, almost casually, "Draco, I suspect you'll be researching tonight's events with Remus at the Ministry?"

Draco's response was instantaneous. "Luna will be there as well. We want this nightmare to end as soon as possible."

Remus turned to Severus. "I am sorry," he said, and the Potions Master frowned. "If I can be of any assistance…please, tell me…" Despite this show of faith, Severus doubted anyone could help him. But he appreciated the werewolf immensely—the two were more parallel now than they ever had been. The couple exited, leaving none other but Severus, Albus, and _that thing_ that the Potions Master refused to call Harry.

"I wish that there were a less harmful way to do this, Severus," Albus said quietly, "but he must live until we can find the counter curse. I suspect you've realized that my decision not to return to Hogwarts as Headmaster this year is _final_." Severus nodded. "But I will be in correspondence. I will also visit you periodically to record Harry's behavior."

"This is not Harry," Severus said darkly.

"It_ is_," Albus persisted, "but he is not all here. This is a _small piece_ of Harry." He paused for a moment, as though to let his words sink in. "I do suggest that you take this tie to try and make Harry as personable as possible. I am honestly surprised that Arthur managed to hold off the press thus far, aren't you?"

"…yes, I am." It was a true statement, even though Severus's mind couldn't have been farther away from the subject of Arthur Weasley's press troubles.

The Headmaster sighed. "Severus, could you at least _look_ at him? You made the decision to do this…"

"I did," Severus said, hesitantly, "but—"

"You must stand by your decision. I promise you that this is last you will have to endure, old friend." As Severus saw the caring and almost-tangible compassion in the older man's eyes, the Potions Master wanted to believe what he'd just heard.

But Severus shook his head, with those thoughts going astray. "You cannot know when my story will end, Albus."

"Ah," Albus countered, "but I have a feeling as to when it will begin." And with that, the Headmaster turned and exited before the question clamoring up the Potions Master's throat could voice itself. And thusly, Severus was left alone…

with Harry.

_**The heartbreaking feelings subside**_

_**As the thing that fills up my heart became a stone**_

_**For that reason, love dies out**_

_**And is not born again.**__—"Stone Roses"_


	30. Chapter 30

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Thirty:** Breakfast with a side of Love

_**It is murmured that we could take back that**_

_**Chance re-encounter on a day that could sustain laughter**_

_**But why is that, I wonder?**_

_**The tears that flow**_

_**As though they are unstoppable become a star**_

_**As everyone goes their separate ways.**__—"Epitaph"_

**July 26, Wednesday, MORNING, 2000**

Ron had woken up early the day after being contacted for his court hearing. He was rather surprised that he hadn't been arrested on the spot. Perhaps his father had something to do with that?

Without bothering to tell Hermione that he was leaving, he used the fireplace in their room to Floo to his home, the Burrow. Normally, the channels were closed for such a thing, but since Arthur had been visiting Hogwarts more often to check on Harry—and himself, although Ron didn't want to admit it—the Floo ports had been opened. It wasn't announced, and Ron wasn't sure when they were going to be closed, but he might as well use them while they were open. He headed to the Burrow.

The house felt…empty, upon his arrival. Ron supposed that everyone had gotten their own places in the meantime—it was hard to imagine, as they had all gathered at the Burrow while the War was in progress. Fred and George, Ron knew that they'd had a place above that shop of theirs for convenience; bill still worked for Gringotts and Charlie in Romania, he guessed. Percy had moved out while Ron had still been in school, of course—_Good riddance to bad rubbish_, Ron thought. And indeed, without thinking of it he'd already accounted for more than half of his family. How time flew. Ginny, he imagined, still lived here; she was a rather young nurse for St. Mungo's—with the War, Ron couldn't imagine his mum letting the youngest go out on her own. He sighed happily at the familiar thought. He hadn't thought of his own family for quite some time outside of his father. It was difficult to. Acknowledging that you had a family as a Death Eater meant to recognize that they could…that a comrade could—

The same clock that tracked their movement stood in the corner, as did many of the other usual items that had been the center of youth. Making his way upstairs quietly, he passed by his old room, where he and Harry shared their first, second, and many subsequent rows. His Chudley Cannons poster was still on the wall, and his room had looked as though his mother had cleaned it every day since he had been gone. Had the emotion left in him, he would have cried.

_Well,_ he thought, _at least I know they won't be winning anymore matches. I can't believe I ever had any faith in a team whose fan club motto is "Let's just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best."_ Even after that thought, he smiled, knowing that despite logic the Chudley Cannons were still his favorite team and would never cease to be. Maybe he hadn't changed so much after all.

"Ron?" he heard a groggy voice behind him. Ron turned to see his mum, still in a nightgown and rubbing her eyes.

"Yeah mum; it's me…" he said suddenly feeling sheepish.

Immediately, Molly Weasley was wide awake, tackling her son in a hug so fierce that it caused the both of them to fall onto his neatly made bed. She was crying before they'd hit the mattress. "Ron!" was the only word she could utter before lapsing into a crying fit, and Ron resigned himself to holding her.

_It's good to be home, mum._

**July 26, Wednesday, MORNING, 2000**

About an hour later Molly Weasley was force feeding her son a delicious breakfast that made Ron utterly homesick despite being a home. "Your father told me a lot. I always believed that you would be alright. I always believe in you."

"Even though I'm suspected of betrayal? Mum, what if I turned on you and tried to kill you?" It baffled Ron how trustworthy everyone was.

His mother simply smiled back and said, "Then I would at least die helping one of my children." The words were genuine, Ron could tell, and although that hadn't been the point that he was trying to make, he let it drop; his mum was still and always would be his mum. "Ron, it's so nice to have you back! This house is so empty nowadays." She seemed to be rejoicing. Ron could see the woman's happiness, and couldn't help smiling back.

It was good to be home. "I'm glad I could be here. None of the Death Eaters could cook like this," he added, chuckling. Noticing that Molly Weasley decidedly frowned and was silent, Ron coughed lightly and asked, "What has Dad been up to lately? I bet you two are glad to get the house to yourselves?"

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "Arthur works all the time, now," she said, voice dipping. "He does his work well, and I'm glad that he can better our society, but…I miss that man dearly. He almost never comes home, not even to bother his muggle item collection. I used to chide him, but…I think it's all that kept your father sane sometimes." She smiled weakly. "But I know that once all this War business is through with, everything will be fine. Things will be less hectic. Being Minister is always hard when there are times like these."

Ron inquired, "Are you referring to Voldemort's—"

"Do not say that creature's name in my house!" his mother hissed, and then added apologetically, "I'm sorry, I just…"

"It's alright, mum," Ron said, feeling like a child once more. "it was a stupid question, anyway." There was a slow, awkward silence between them that Ron had hoped to never share with his mother, and he reflected on it while chewing on a slice of flapjack. Voldemort had scarred many more people emotionally than mentally, it seemed—even Harry. That dream he'd had before he'd woken up—if it was as true as Ron believed it to be—had displayed Harry doing some very un-Harry-like things. Tackling and beating the living shit out of Lucius Malfoy in the name of one Severus Snape, for example. Ron sighed. Everything just seemed so mixed up. He'd been a _Death Eater._

"Ronald?" his mother asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Fine. I was just thinking…about how long I've been gone." He pointed to himself. "My hair's gotten so long, you know…" His mother was easily led astray, as always; she summoned a full-length mirror from a pile of junk clustered in the corner of the kitchen.

"Well," she said, "We weren't sure whether or not to cut it." Ron assumed that she meant herself and Ginny. She held up the mirror. "Hermione thought we should let you decide…"

Ron almost dropped his fork at the image of himself. His sharp intake of break was enough to hint at the fact that the redhead hadn't seen himself for over two years…not since he'd become a Death Eater. He hadn't been able to stand looking at himself. His hair _was_ long, a little past his shoulders—but that wasn't the point. He looked decidedly more…solid, a bit more muscular—and in his own opinion, rather dashing—no longer the scrawny boy of a sidekick he had once been. His eyes, despite being blue, seemed rather dark to himself—something that he disliked but couldn't change—and he now possessed a set jaw, something he had assumed was acquired through gritting his teeth against countless forms of pain and suffering. The black robes that he wore were rather depressing, and he was surprised that he hadn't been arrested already—he _looked_ like a Death Eater wearing them. Unfortunately, he was no longer used to wearing anything else.

"You've changed so much," his mother said quietly.

"So has everything else," he said, turning away from the mirror to continue eating.

Suddenly, she said, "Arthur tells me you're engaged to Hermione."

_That_ made Ron drop his fork. "I have not agreed to any such terms. I'm not even sure if—"

"Don't be silly," his mother interrupted, "you love her. You always have."

This insight from his mother struck him far more deeply than the rumor of an engagement ever could. "Mum," Ron began seriously. "I…I'm not sure if I love her anymore. I don't know _if_ I can love her."

This seemed to come as a shock to Molly Weasley; the abstract horror of a world without Ron and Hermione together, if her face was anything to go by, was as terrible as the appearance of Voldemort for the third time. "Why on earth would you say something like that?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm just…not sure. I know she slaved over me and cared for me…but…"

His mother put her hands on her hips. "Ronald, that girl has done more than care for you! She _loves_ you. Quite blindly, I might add. You have no idea how much trouble she'd had watching you. First, she had to get the Ministry to release your body—without your father's help, as he wasn't Minister at the time—then she had to quit her job at St. Mungo's with Ginny, basically, to get you out of there and into Hogwarts. Thank _God_ that Albus offered her a position to train under Poppy…and she's done all of this while fighting off the opinions of those who thought you should have been left to die while Harry was behaving strangely to boot. Do you know how many nights that girl has _cried_ over you? She thinks that I don't notice…"

Ron swallowed the guilt that rose to form a lump in his throat. "I appreciate it, mum—I really do—but I refuse to love her out of guilt. That'd be more of an insult than rejecting her."

His mother looked very upset at his argument. Then she did something that scared him, the one thing he'd never seen or heard her do: Molly Weasley, the matriarch and backbone of the Weasley household _swore_. "Dammit, Ronald," she said, eyes more serious than if she'd discovered one of children dead, "just because you lost her for a while doesn't mean that you don't love her anymore! Don't' give up on her just because you've forgotten how important she is to you!"

"Mum," Ron began, "I haven't—"

"You must have if you're telling me you don't love the girl who had faith in you even when the world didn't, even when Harry was about to lose hope." It was almost as though Ron had never spoken to his mother before, as strange as this conversation was becoming. "Do you remember why you loved her?"

Ron chose his next words carefully. "I loved Hermione…because she was strong. Even when I left, I knew she would be strong for Harry; for everyone. And she did. She was." But Hermione was no longer that stubborn girl. She was weary, beaten into submission by the merciless world around her. _"I'm tired of being strong! I was strong for you for seven months!"_

As though she had read his mind, Molly said, "Ron. Hermione _is_ strong. But she can only be so strong without you. That's what love is. Don't you see, you stubborn boy? _This_ is what keeps your father going at the Ministry! _This_ is the power that immobilized Voldemort for fifteen years!"

Ron indeed saw his mother's point, but still saw the negative. _This,_ he thought, _is what drove Lucius Malfoy and Blaise Zabini mad. This is what broke Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy's hearts, regardless of how they are picking up the pieces._ Ron sighed.

And so did his mother. "At least spend more time with her before you decide. You owe her that much." Then, reverting back to the woman Ron knew as his mother, she asked with a small smile, "Would you like more sausages?"

_**I don't understand—where shall I go when I'm all alone;**_

_**Blind and helpless?**_

_**And tell me what to do once**_

_**I am there and my memories all start fading?**__—"Last in my Winds"_


	31. Chapter 31

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Thirty-one:** The Boy Who Lived

_**Down comes the rain, turns the sky to grey, and I'm left behind—**_

_**The ship's sailed away…**__--"Last in my Winds_

**July 26, Wednesday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

Once again, Hermione found herself waking up alone. Not that she was naïve enough to expect Ron _next_ to her—but surely he could be in the same room, at least. Could Ron possibly be repulsed by her? It was a question that had plagued her Ron had woken up. She had constantly wondered how much Ron had changed. Whether he would still like the same things; if he would still like _her_.

Apparently, he didn't. Hermione could no longer even compare the ex-Death Eater to Harry. Harry had simply been lost, betrayed and broken by the world and the people he'd held dear. Ron didn't have that excuse. Hermione thought about the last time that she had seen Harry—when he had recovered from Sirius's mental ordeal. He had been mostly happy with the result at the time, though reeling in response to Severus Snape's glare, which now made complete sense. Harry and…Severus Snape? How could such a thing have happened without her knowledge?

…Harry and Snape?

Shaking her head, she decided not to think of it too much. No doubt she would end up with a headache. Looking at the watch on her wrist, Hermione realized that it was past midday. Pulling herself from bed and dressing quickly, she decided not to wait up for Ron, wherever he was, and made her way to the Great Hall, where lunch was now being served to a number of visitors. It was through looking at the grand space in the Hall that she realized that there was nothing else for her to do. Her entire time at Hogwarts Castle had been spent caring for Ron and the other victims. Now that he was awake, there were…no other tasks for her. There were no other jobs for her. Pausing at the wide entrance, she pondered her absence of task. _What else is there to do?_

"Hermione!" she heard an urgent voice. Sirius. "Hermione!"

"Yes?" she answered, to see the Auror heading towards her.

"I read in the paper, a couple days ago, that Harry was hit by something."

Hermione found herself suddenly holding back tears. "Yes."

It seemed that Sirius could see the answer on her face. "He's bad, isn't he?"

Hermione sniffed, her tears building, and nodded. "Dumbledore said he was going to help…"

"Can Lupin—" Hermione sharply shook her head. Sirius hissed, anger written on his face. "I have to see him." She shook her head again. "What, you don't know where he is?"

The tears began to breach her lashes. "I—I do, but—"

"Take me!"

"…I can't. I can't let you. It hurts too much…" The fresh image appeared in her mind: Harry's eyes, aimed at the ceiling, looking but not seeing. She shuddered.

"Hermione…"

"No," she said firmly, spinning abruptly—and she hit something black. Immediately, she recognized it as Ron's robes.

"Ron? Where were you?" she smiled, despite the tears, looking up at him.

"Ah—went to see mum," he replied. "She made me breakfast. It was nice."

"Oh," was all Hermione said.

"Hello Sirius," Ron said.

The godfather seemed speechless, his eyes unable to cope with the image of Ron being alive and well. "You're really…?" Sirius said, his voice nearly inaudible. Taking in a breath, the Auror continued, "I'm sorry about the trial, but your brother had all the paperwork done beforehand. I couldn't…"

Ron simply stared, and said nothing at first. Hermione nodded, accepting the apologies for the both of them. "It's fine," he added after a moment. "It gives me a chance to prove my innocence, so it can be settled officially. I must admit, I'd be disappointed if no one had done anything regarding me _at all_."

"When is it?" Sirius asked.

"Harry's birthday," Ron answered coldly.

"Bastards," Sirius hissed defensively.

There was a pause, in which Hermione knew that Sirius wanted to persist in the previous vein of the conversation about Harry's location, but didn't care to harass her in front of Ron. "Hermione," Ron said, changing the subject, eyes flashing their attention to her. "You overslept."

Using Ron as a distraction, she replied, "I'm sorry. I usually don't…"

"Don't what, Miss Granger?" Those were the placid tones of one Severus Snape—a weary one, at that—as he approached them. It was rare for this man to insert himself into any conversation, and considering that he had implicitly told them three days ago that neither he nor Remus Lupin were speaking to a living soul until Harry and Draco returned, she concluded that the Professor knew about Harry's condition.

The Potions Master and Ron exchanged a glance that Hermione did not like. "I apologize for the intrusion," Severus said sarcastically, "but I thought, 'such a group speaking for so long must be conspiring to do something stupid and infantile.' I am merely here to see if I am right."

Ron snickered in appreciation of the Professor's demeanor, and Hermione shrugged. "We were actually discussing the inconvenience of Ron's court date with the Ministry."

Severus seemed to not know about this. "They're trying you?" he asked, ignoring Hermione and speaking directly to Ron.

The redhead shrugged in turn and said, "Percy put the paperwork in. They're accusing me of betraying the World to Voldemort."

Severus looked thoughtful, as though he was remembering his own trial. "When is it?"

The three who knew chorused, "Harry's birthday."

"Harry's…?" The Head of Slytherin trailed off, having quite obviously forgotten—or perhaps, Hermione mused, he had never known—the date.

Apparently, Sirius was growing impatient. "I want to know where Harry is in St. Mungo's."

Hermione jumped nervously. "Sirius, I told you, I don't want to see him—"

Ron interrupted, seeming equally eager to dissuade Sirius. "They're going to move him soon, Sirius, so—"

"He is already gone." The solitary statement from Professor Snape stopped everyone. Silence actually prevailed for a moment before the slew of questions attacked the Potions Master.

"Where is he?" Sirius asked.

"What's been done to him?" Ron demanded.

"Is he alright?" Hermione even found herself inquiring.

Severus seemed to see the follow-up questions ready on their tongues, as he raised both of his hands in surrender. "I can answer all of these questions. Harry is with me, and he has been restored to relative functionality." Sirius and Ron's expressions darkened considerably, as though they didn't believe him, but Hermione rejoiced at the idea of Harry being alright.

"Take us to him!" she cried happily.

**July 26, Wednesday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

"Harry! You're…you're…" tears welled up in Hermione's eyes as she saw Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, sitting in the leather chair that Snape had chastised her for attempting to sit in.

Harry looked up and his green eyes were…alive. Sparkling. He _smiled_. " 'Mione! And _Ron_! I'm so glad that you're here! I know Hermione's been worried sick. When did you wake up?"

Ron said nothing. Neither did Hermione; she was speechless. Sirius sighed in relief. "I'm so glad that you're alright. How did you get here? And healed? Lupin? I knew that he could do it!" Harry's Godfather moved forward to bypass Ron and Hermione, but stopped, seemed to think better of it and said, "I'll…do this later. All the snake poison in here makes me sick. I'm just glad that you're alright." Flashing a smug smirk at Snape, who didn't respond at all, he left, promising to return when they were in a more fitting location.

Hermione took this as her opportunity to welcome Harry back. Almost diving forward, Hermione leaned in to hug Harry—

"No," Ron said firmly, pulling her back.

Harry looked at him quizzically. "Something wrong, mate?" Then Harry's eyes widened. "You look…so much like a Death Eater now, Ron. Your hair gotten longer, too. Are you going to cut it?"

Ron look at Snape, and even Hermione could feel the younger man's glare. Hermione pulled free, moving towards Harry once more. Once again Ron pulled her back, this time effectively wrapping his arms around her torso. "I said no, Hermione. Snape, what did you do? This is _not_ Harry." Hermione was flabbergasted. How could Ron say something like that? But his grip on her tightened, almost to the point where it hurt to move.

"Ron, are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked, his expression changing to one of worry.

"He's just on edge," Hermione said. "He's been cautious like this since he's woken up."

With a sigh, Harry said, "Are you going to end up like Mad-Eye Moody, Ron?" Hermione laughed.

Severus took a breath, and said, "It is most definitely Harry. He's just…recovering." Ron and the Professor exchanged another glance. But Hermione wasn't paying any attention. Giving up on the option of setting herself free from Ron's embrace, she settled for simply speaking to Harry from her current position.

"Harry…I—why would you leave? Why did you go after Lucius?"

Harry's expression darkened. "I…those bastards had it _coming_. Hermione, they helped kill hundreds of people." Glancing at Severus shyly, Harry added, "And Lucius had to _pay_." Immediately, Hermione knew that the piece of news concerning Harry and Severus was true.

"Snape," Ron said viciously, "we will be sharing words soon."

"Ron, what's gotten into you?" Hermione snapped.

Severus Snape, however, seemed to take no offense. "Ron," The Potions Master said sympathetically, "I know you are angry—"

"What did you do, Severus?" Harry inquired.

"Wait," Severus said, sighing. "Ron, if you will stay here a few more minutes, Albus, Lupin and Draco will arrive from the Ministry. I'll answer your concerns then."

This seemed to be the first time Harry had heard about this. "Why are they coming?"

"You," Ron and Severus said together.

Harry sighed. "Severus, I told you I'm fine."

"Why are you two being so suspicious?" Hermione demanded.

"We are gathering to discuss possible side effects of Blaise's curse," Severus said firmly.

Ron said casually, "You should go, Hermione."

Harry objected. "Hermione should be here, even though I'm fine!" Hermione agreed.

Ron said seriously, "Hermione, I'll find you later." The stoic look in Ron's eyes told her that this wasn't something trivial. His grip on her loosened and he pushed her, staggering, towards the door. The look on his face kept her from ignoring him, and her feet involuntarily guided her towards the door. There was something here that she didn't know.

"I'll have you know," she said testily, "that you can't just cover my eyes and expect me not to notice anything. Ron, I can't say I'm shocked, but Professor Snape, surely you are more mature than to participate in this?"

With a sigh, the Head of Slytherin said, "Miss Granger. There are events unfolding that you have not been privy to, and things will remain that way until Albus Dumbledore sees fit your inclusion. Is that enough integrity for you?"

Hermione wanted to object, but found herself strangely pacified—for the moment, at least. "So long as Harry's general healthy is fine, then yes."

"Remove yourself from my chambers now, Miss Granger."

"Severus!" Harry burst.

_Men,_ Hermione though harshly, exiting the room.

_**The lamp's light is burning**_

_**Sincerity is always fleeting**_

_**The reason for scribbling in the basement**_

_**Is it fate?**__—"Shadows & Lights"_


	32. Chapter 32

**Flames of War**

**Chapter Thirty-Two:** Spicy Marmalade

_**Well I wonder…**_

_**Well I wonder…**_

_**Please, keep me in your deep mind.**__—"I wonder"_

**July 26, Wednesday, AFTERNOON, 2000**

"How on earth did you do it?" Draco asked, circling Harry as though the Boy Who Lived was a science experiment. How did Severus get Harry to be so…so…Harry-like? "It's like a miracle!"

"It's an abomination," Ron piped up.

"It is neither," Albus said.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. "What the hell is wrong with you all?"

"Harry, go take a nap!" Severus snapped, clearly irritated.

Something strange seemed to flash through Harry's eyes as he said, "Yes, Severus," and retired, heading back into the heart of Severus's chambers.

"What did you do to him?" Ron asked. "What the fuck did you do?"

"That question should be directed at me," Albus replied. "I transferred the curse, as I told you I would."

Draco smiled, his curiosity for magic overcoming Ron's graveness. "How did you do it, Severus?"

Remus frowned. "I'm afraid that with me doing research, I must concur with Draco's question. I don't mean to pry, but I need the information."

Severus once again looked as he did when Albus had been casting his spell—broken, torn, like he had nothing left in him. Like had lost his soul. "I merely followed Albus's advice. The curse…it function as a better, more exact version of Imperius. Those possessed by Voldemort in his reign could not be found simply because he ordered them to behave normally, excepting covert instructions specifically given to them. The fault in Imperius was that a strong will would overcome the magic, as it was only based on mental persuasion rather than control. Ron, since you were not with us yesterday, Albus informed us that Lucius's incantation included a full day of gathering magic." That fact appeared to have left Ron speechless. "Yes. A full day. There is no way, even if Harry mentally comes to terms with his memories, his faults, that he can battle the magic imprisoning his mind. Lucius did his work well. I simply ordered Harry to use every memory at his disposal to reconstruct his personality." Despite the rather simple explanation, Severus looked worn, as though demanding Harry to do these things had taken every ounce of strength he'd had. Draco pitied him, and the smile vanished from the younger's face.

"Every memory as his disposal," Remus echoed. "Are there any that he can't access?"

Severus nodded. "I…he tells me that trying to remember some things makes his head, his scar, hurt terribly. The only two instances are the Final Battle with Voldemort, and…the nine Death Eaters he killed."

Draco perked up his ears to this news, and everyone else appeared to have followed suit.

Albus looked confused, his brows furrowing. "To my recollection, Severus, Harry only killed six Death Eaters. Their bodies were discovered by the Ministry." Draco was pretty sure that he and Remus blanched simultaneously.

Ron said quite easily, "I heard that Harry killed nine, and that he didn't remember what had happened to the other three. I assume that they went unreported." His superior smirk grated Draco's nerves. It wasn't enough that Ron was back, but he seemed to be under the impression that having betrayed his friends partially to become a Death Eater made him noble. While Draco was very much thankful for the help in defeating Voldemort, there was no reason for the redhead to get a bighead over it all. He was important yes—but not better than the rest of them.

"Really?" was Albus's suspiciously calm response.

"This isn't a Death Eater Camp," Draco hissed at Ron. "You don't get promoted based on valuable information." Remus sent him a stern look. Ron and Severus appeared to not have heard him, although Draco knew better. It just reminded him of his days in school. Gryffindors, always so quick to alert an adult to the doings of a Slytherin.

"Is there a reason no one told me of this?" Albus said, reclaiming everyone's attention.

"Ah," Remus began, "I was supposed to inform you, but with Sirius and Lucius—"

"I understand," Albus said, and a bit of the tension melted away. "How do you know that he killed nine?"

"I asked him," Draco answered.

"How does _he_ know he killed them?" Albus asked, more specifically. Severus shifted in his seat. "Severus…?"

"He had a dream, Albus," said the Head of Slytherin.

"I assume that it is safe to say that he told you as well, then."

"Yes," Severus replied.

"He told Hermione as well," Draco piped up. "I heard them talking."

"And Draco told me," Remus added softly, "but I did get the opportunity to question Harry about it myself."

Apparently, Severus hadn't know Harry had shared this information. "There was blood. Lots of it, he said," Severus continued. "That was all that he could ever remember. Blood."

Ron frowned. "He was angry when I was attacked. I felt it. The rage was almost evil…" Ron's expression changed to one of chagrin, and he looked directly at Severus. "Deliciously so."

Draco was taken aback by the slight purr in Ron's voice. Since when was any sort of evil described as delicious? Draco had been there, had _seen _Harry's anger, and felt it—it was—

"Shocking," Albus said. "I was concerned when he had returned. He was rude to Poppy. Very rude." A pause. "It rained that night. It may have washed him—and the victims—clean. It would explain why there were no wounds visible on the bodies that we did find. I was under the impression that he simply took care of them with the Killing Curse, but now…" he paused again, this time, humming thoughtfully before he spoke again. "What if he healed the wounds before leaving the bodies where they were?" It was indeed a new concept, especially for Draco. Would Harry had been so meticulous—to actually rid himself of the evidence that would support that he tortured the Death Eaters to death? What on earth did he actually do to them?

"So," Ron said, "even with Harry not back to normal, Hogwarts is starting up again?"

"Yes," Albus said, accepting the change of subject. "We must. He is the only untreated victim, and we are the only ones who know about it to boot. Hogwarts cannot remain closed for simply one person, and considering that everyone else is under the impression that he is fine, it wouldn't do well to announce we were remaining closed without a reason."

"…not even for Harry?"

"No," Severus answered coldly. "The world does not stop for one person. You should know this, Ron, as they are not stopping for you either." Ron looked away.

"I wanted you to know," Albus said, "that I am not returning to Hogwarts as Headmaster this year." Of course, Draco had only known this, and he kept quiet as Ron gave the reaction that everyone was already expecting. He felt Remus's hand on his shoulder, and he gently leaned into it as Ron replied.

"What?" The ex-Death Eater seemed to explode.

"Ronald—" Draco supposed that he was using Weasley's first name to help quiet him.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem to have much of an effect. "You can't quit Hogwarts!" Ron said rather forcefully.

"Ronald, I am not—"

"Minerva, I am sure, will do a well enough job for me. Official Hogwarts letters with the change in management printed will be sent on Harry's birthday in his honor, after your trial."

"That's only five days!" Ron practically shouted.

"Yes. There are some issues concerning Hogwarts that I must set into order first. One of them, coincidentally, is requesting—pending your release from charges—that you become our Official Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."

Ron blinked several times, shocked into silence. "What?" Draco was just as speechless. So, it seemed was Severus. Did the older man still covet the position?

"I know that this is rather sudden, but take your time," Albus said kindly. "Remus has offered to aid you with lesson plans and technicalities. Of course, I am assuming that you'll accept the position, but I am not forcing you. You can refuse. Just a thought."

"What?"

Clearly his throat, Remus said innocently, "Headmaster, you have managed to cover such a wide variety of topics…"

Albus smiled. "You're right, of course. Back to Harry. I am glad that he is functional on his own. It will take some time before his condition is discovered at this rate. I would like to delay that as long as possible." Draco gave up, sighing loudly. There was really no predicting the Headmaster. From Harry to Death Eaters to the position of Headmaster of Hogwarts, to Ron being a DADA Prof and then back to Harry? This was ridiculous. "If anything happens," Albus said, continuing, "I will be supplying you all with an emergency Portkey to the Ministry."

Severus finally caught up with the conversation. "If, for instance, I go insane?"

_...nevermind about that,_ Draco thought. Everyone looked at Severus. _What on earth is the old man talking about now?_

"I am serious," Severus said. "I do not think that I can survive this. I cannot last. The War, perhaps; Voldemort, barely; Lucius, I withstood. But this, Albus? Harry? I cannot _do_ this."

"You promised him," Albus answered.

_Promised him what?_ Draco thought. _What did you promise Harry?_

"I am too weak," Severus insisted. "I should not have. I told you, Albus, that I would regret that."

"You can stand strong, my old friend."

"I cannot. I cannot wake up knowing, every morning, that Harry is this way. I cannot do it." Severus's eyes looked pained, heartbroken.

_Just like Remus did,_ Draco thought, and then he remembered—_"Please, don't leave me."_ Remus had said those words to him. Draco had even said those words to Blaise, when the latter had joined Voldemort. Those words, though not spoken had been the silent message Severus had sent to Harry even since Albus had inscribed the spell at the Shrieking Shack. _No,_ Draco realized suddenly,_ even before that._ Draco remembered quite clearly the anger Severus had displayed when Harry had aided in Sirius's recovery, how appalled and yet worried Severus had seemed about Harry. _How did I miss that?_ Then there was the visit to the very chambers he was currently in to converse with Severus about Draco's own father. _I am so clueless…! _

"Severus," Ron said sternly. "You are not done yet. I don't care what you think, but you've been through worse. And I am not going to let you kill my best friend! Look, I know that your life sucks and shit, but you can't give up. What would Harry do?"

Severus shook his head. "I am not Harry. He was born destined for glory. I do not have the same fate. He tried to save me…he tried to heal me. And he was dragged down with me. Had I not been so self-centered, I could have stopped him—he wouldn't be this way." Everyone was silent, wanting to contradict him but not knowing his relationship with Harry well enough to do so.

After a moment, Draco leaned over in Severus's direction. Looking the Potions Master in the eyes, Draco crisply slapped him. Severus's head fell back a little, but Draco was sure that it was more so in surprise than anything else. He felt the irritation rising inside of him, and after giving Severus what he deserved, he gave his feelings a voice.

"How _dare_ you!" he shouted, finding a level of pride for Harry that the Slytherin hadn't known that he was capable of possessing. "Harry risked his life for you, and all you can do is think about yourself? About how _you've_ been hurting? About how this was _your_ fault? I was there, when Harry fought Lucius; I watched Harry torture Lucius for his crimes against you almost as badly as Voldemort would have. I watched him torture Lucius again and again until he coughed up blood and fell unconscious! I watched him stab _my father_ with his broken wand. I saw Harry glare at Blaise so hard that Blaise _flinched_. He _defended_ you! When my father told him that you did that shit to yourself I watched him scream his lungs out because he loves you! How _dare_ you belittle his actions and the very core of his feelings by focusing on yourself? Harry fought Lucius in front of the house his parents _died_ in and still only saw you through the flames. Do you _know_ how bloody hard it is to find someone like that? You drove him _mad_, Severus; So incredibly mad that he _tortured_ people on your behalf and enjoyed it like a possessed man. I don't bloody care if you die, Severus Snape, since you're being _so_ self-centered, but you will do it _after_ Harry comes back, and you will do it _after_ you tell Harry you love him so badly that if you had the chance to torture Voldemort a thousand times you would do it because of the shit that bloody monster has been put Harry through!" Draco took a deep breath, and felt Remus's hand on his shoulder again. "And you will do it _after_," he continued, "you go to Azkaban and tell my broken father that you don't bloody need him, because _you_ aren't broken _yet_ and _you_ are still _alive_ and _you_ have _Harry._ Because _Harry is your new reason to live._ You will wake up every morning and thank the Gods, or whichever one you believe in, that Harry is _beside you_, let alone in any condition at all. And by those Gods you will live for him, Severus Snape, because by the Gods, for the short time you were together he lived for you. And I swear, if you do anything to contradict anything that I've said short of drinking wine and teaching, I will personally rip you limb from limb on Harry's behalf and send _myself_ to Azkaban to rot with my father. Am I perfectly clear?" Breathing hard now, Draco waited for whatever response he was going to get.

To his surprised, Severus nodded. "Yes, Draco. I am sorry for my insolence." The man looked near tears, and without thinking Draco knew that those tears would be for Harry.

A silence followed, and Draco heard Albus say awkwardly—the first awkward statement he'd ever heard coming from the Headmaster—"I suppose that everything here has been…taken care of…"

_**I want to protect those timid creatures**_

_**Those who kneel in prayer**_

_**I'll even carve a cross in my chest**_

_**To believe in something**_

_**And the irrepressible spirit now and forever.**__—"Velvet Underworld"_


End file.
